Winds of Change
by xo going nowhere
Summary: AU. Haley James is smart, beautiful, popular... and desperate for change. A handsome stranger unlike anyone she's ever known could be just the catalyst she needs.
1. Chapter 1

Haley James is smart, beautiful, popular… and desperate for a change. A handsome stranger unlike anyone she knows could be the catalyst she needs.

**Winds of Change **

"And what he learned was that sometimes less is more. Mr. Smith, please sum up Miss James in one word," the balding teacher prodded gently. Sixth period English, with four minutes to spare, and it was safe to say that half the class was counting down the seconds.

"**Hot**," he licked his lips, and the class chuckled. The girl in question barely reacted, a tinge of a smile curling her lips as she kept her gaze levelly on the blackboard.

"Haley, a response?"

Turning, she shrewdly examined the jock. He was typical. Well muscled, a mop of light brown hair, quite a bit taller than she was.

"Troglodyte," she said coolly, snapping her planner shut and sliding it into her tote bag. Sniggers came from the front of the room, where the "nerdy" percent of Tree Hill High's population tended to gather. The rest of the room sat in tensed silence, knowing from her tone that it had been an insult but the word foreign to their ears.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Tim asked, scratching his head.

"Caveman," the pretty blonde's voice dripped ice, and Tim's hand dropped.

"_Okay_, moving on… have you all completed the small assignment from the beginning of the period?" Mr. Jones edged nervously, laughter in his eyes but common courtesy preventing it from escaping. The class murmured. "Alright, then pass them forward."

_What are you searching for? _

One word to sum up their desires and their goals. One word to explain all their hopes for the future. It was so easy to label someone else, but it was a far more daunting task to use one word on yourself.

Folding the paper crisply, nerves churned within Haley James's flat stomach. When the assignment had been given out, she thought it would be for personal record only. With the papers being passed forward, there was a much greater chance of a classmate reading it. Resisting the urge to fold in into a few more sections, Haley handed the paper to the cheerleader in front of her and tried to calm down.

The bell rang, silencing any doubts she had. Rising gracefully, the blonde waited patiently as she did everyday, poised by the door. From down the hallway, she could already see her best friend's golden curls springing about, unmanageable as always. Brooke Davis's laughter echoed from the other direction, and Haley identified it as the fake one her friend used only with athletes she hadn't slept with yet. Peyton Sawyer approached, looping her arm around Haley's waist, and in two strides, Haley's thin arm linked with that of Brooke Davis. This was their routine, every day. After sixth period, Haley would wait outside her classroom, while Peyton and Brooke met her in the middle. Together, they would all take a bathroom break, a time out for them to dish gossip, garner advice, retouch their makeup and read the latest graffiti on the stalls.

The door swinging shut, Peyton checked subtly under the stalls to be sure they were alone. Most people didn't dare approach the second floor girls' bathroom after sixth period. The trio's heart-to-hearts were infamous among both faculty and students, as were their tempers. No, this was one group that you steered clear of, if you could. Signaling to her brunette best friend that they were in fact alone, Brooke slid the lock closed as Haley slid down the wall.

"What's wrong with you today?" Brooke's observant green eyes connected with Haley's warm honey ones through the mirror.

"Nothing," Haley sighed softly, blowing her bangs away from her face.

"Don't 'nothing' us!" Brooke squealed indignantly. "Something is totally up with you."

"You've been different lately," Peyton said without taking sides, carefully examining her soft curls to be sure nothing was stuck in them. It seemed that lunch was the only area of school hazardous to Peyton Sawyer.

"I think its Chris," Brooke mock-whispered, eyes widening eagerly as she saw her best friend's stricken face.

"Damn right it's Chris!" Haley exploded, standing up angrily. Peyton barely batted an eye at her friend's lashing out. Haley James was a girl who tended to bottle things up. For so long, she would maintain her cool indifference, while things churned under the surface. Only in the comforting presence of her best friends would she allow her control to slip. The only time Haley's outburst had caught her by surprise was in kindergarten, and they had come a long way. Now, she rather looked forward to them. It was the only time you were guaranteed to hear what Haley _really_ thought.

"What'd he do this time?" she asked sympathetically, slyly double-checking the lock on the door as the bell sounded, signaling the beginning of seventh period. It didn't matter much to the three beautiful girls taking refuge among the porcelain and mirrors. They had been **_very_** late to seventh period every other day of their high school career, and no one was expecting that to change any time soon.

"I think it's more like what he _doesn't_ do. Which is, you know, call, come over, speak to me? I actually even stooped to calling his **_house _**phone yesterday. His **_mother_** answered, to tell me he was "out with some friends". Do you realize that this is an entirely new level of pathetic?" the blonde girl ranted, biting lightly at the left-hand corner of her mouth, as she always did when she was too angry for words.

Haley James, blonde and beautiful and brainy, made up one-third of Tree Hill High's most elite group of girls. Peyton Sawyer, with her love of rock music and dark art and the fact that she was hot as hell, made up another portion. Brooke Davis, rich and spoiled, sultry and sexy, rounded out the trio. All together, they were the envy of the school, and the apple of its eye. In most situations, the three girls tossed together would be petty and jealous, a group bonded by circumstance. Not these three. Brooke, Haley, and Peyton had been together for years, closer than friends could possibly be, bickering like only sisters could. They knew each other inside and out, and defended each other fiercely. It was a strong, unbreakable bond between the three of them, which they valued above all other things.

Haley was the only one in a "committed relationship". Chris Keller, handsome and cocky, sarcastic and obnoxious, had caught her eye months earlier. Reluctantly, Haley agreed to be his girlfriend, a move that she was sorely regretting as their relationship matured. They hadn't spoken in days and she was positively boiling, her rage worsened by the fact that she knew in a few days, he'd show up outside her window with an acoustic guitar and a love song, and all would be forgotten.

_Until next month, anyway_.

Brooke made sympathetic noises in the back of her throat, but wasn't quite feeling them. Brushing back her glossy dark hair, she wondered why Haley bothered with relationships in the first place. They were just _messy_. Brooke was much more of a no-strings kind of girl. She hated that someone she loved so dearly was hurting, but she could care less about whether Haley and Chris actually made it or not. Brooke was the impulsive, reckless one, and Haley and Peyton had always treated her as the "little sister". She never got used to the feeling of dishing out advice, when she was so often the one in need of it, or picking up the pieces of others when she was so often the one being torn apart. It was difficult for her, but she tried anyway, just 'cause she loved them. Sage wisdom was always more Peyton's forte.

"I could seriously, like,_ kill _him," Haley spat irritably, her light eyes dancing with malice. Haley was a girl of many layers, as Brooke and Peyton had discovered over the years. She could be cold and calculating, snarky and cruel, but it was mostly a defensive mechanism. Beneath that was a girl with a heart of gold, who cared for her friends and cared about her grades. Yet mixed in somewhere was a love of revenge, a longing to see anyone who crossed them get what was coming to them.

"Easy there Hales," Peyton laughed softly, but her own hazel eyes mirrored her friend's desires. Chris Keller was a grade-A asshole, in her opinion. He wasn't worthy of Haley, and he never had been. As far as she was concerned, the sooner her best friend dumped him, the better. Haley didn't deserve to hurt, and that seemed to be all Chris was capable of. If orange were her color, Peyton wouldn't think twice about wringing the rocker's skinny neck.

"Shit, I need to get to class," Brooke swore, accidentally dropping her lipstick into the off-white sink in her haste to pack up.

"Since when?" Haley laughed, her attention momentarily diverted. Peyton's golden eyebrow arched as a prompt.

"Since Mrs. Goldbloom moved Lucas Roe's seat right across from mine," Brooke winked.

"Lucas will still be in class in ten minutes, Tigger," Haley rolled her eyes, moving towards the mirror. "He's a good boy."

"You know him?" Peyton inquired.

"Not any better than I know anyone else in the school," the blonde shrugged. Haley James, being the brains behind their operation, had what seemed to be a mental rolodex of everyone attending Tree Hill High, consisting of their name, schedule, and dirtiest little secrets. It was quite the handy weapon, and had gotten them out of many a jam, as it included the teachers too. "But from what I've gathered, I don't think he'll be interested in being your post-game hook up."

"What makes you think that's all I want him for?" Brooke asked defensively, crossing her arms below her chest as she always did.

"So you want him to be your boyfriend?" Peyton asked skeptically.

"No," Brooke tossed off. "But I _could_, and I think that's the important part here."

"Whatever you say, honey," Haley softened towards her friend, smiling gently.

"Oh, no! Don't do that!" Brooke cried, horrified.

"Do what?"

"That benevolent, 'Yes, I know better, but I'm humoring you, because you're a child' look!" Brooke's electric green eyes narrowed.

"Well… come _on_ Brooke. Don't you want to fall in love?" Haley asked, slight frown lines marring her perfect face.

"Because that turned out so well for you," the pretty brunette scowled, and the blonde's face distorted with anger.

"Ooookay, I think this conversation is over," Peyton jumped in, picking her backpack up off the ground. She would have to remember to place it somewhere else next time. The floors in this school were disgusting. "B. Davis, go ensnare Lucas. Tell us how it goes."

"Will do," Brooke grinned with a cheeky wink, the fight of only moments before fading into obscurity. Fights between them never lasted. "Hales, are you gonna be okay?"

"Me? Hell yes, I'll be just fine. It's Chris you should worry about," Haley forced a smile, and Peyton and Brooke exchanged a look. Their petite blonde friend fancied herself a lot tougher than she actually was, and they could almost see in her eyes the pain of the relationship being torn apart.

"Alright then. Meet at my car after homeroom?" Peyton confirmed, and Haley and Brooke winced simultaneous. Peyton Sawyer, God love her, was not going to win any safest driver awards any time soon.

"Yeah, we'll be there."

"Okay, then. We're young, we're fine. It's time to do some damage," Brooke said, strutting off down the hall, excitement evident in her step. It was endlessly endearing to her friends that Brooke treated going to class and going clubbing with the same attitude.

"See you later, Hales," Peyton waved and began to walk away. Something tugged at Haley's heart then, a question she needed an answer to.

"Hey Peyt?" her friend turned. "What did you put in that one-word assignment thing for Jones?"

"Love," Peyton shrugged, and Haley knew she didn't just mean in the romantic sense. The curly blonde's mother had passed away years before, and her father was always off. She had always put others before herself, and she couldn't ask her dad to sacrifice his happiness for her own. She contented herself with Brooke and Haley, the tightest makeshift family she could ever dream of, but there was a yearning in her heart that her gorgeous friends couldn't satisfy.

"That's a good answer," Haley smiled, turning and heading off to her locker. Peyton's inquisitive gaze burned into her back, but she brushed it off as she turned the corner. Tugging her massive text book out of the locker, she turned slightly and met a pair of unfamiliar eyes. They were a beautiful shade of sky blue, with flecks of green in them, the idealistic color of the sea. They were part of a face she was sure she would've remembered if she had ever seen it before. It was exquisite, really, a work of art if she'd ever seen it. A chiseled jaw line, strong cheekbones, a high forehead, with _those_ eyes and dark brown hair. A small smirk curved his full lips, and she realized with a jolt that she had **totally** been staring. How embarrassing! Suicide seemed appealing at the moment, but Haley settled for just looking back into her locker.

Pretending to be looking for something of utmost importance gave Haley the chance to examine him through a curtain of blonde hair. To her mild surprise, he continued to stare unabashedly at her. There was a confident swagger in his walk as he approached her. The gorgeous male bent slightly, as he was at least five inches taller than her, and he was so close that she could take in the faint scent of his aftershave.

"Beautiful, at least when I stare at people, I don't try to hide it," he whispered in her ear, his warm, minty breath tickling her cheek. He kissed it lightly before continuing on down the hallway as if he had never stopped. She, on the other hand, was frozen to the spot.

Who the hell did he think he was? She was Haley fucking James! Nobody touched her! Anger tugged at her, while intrigue pulled at the other side. She looked after him, a woman torn, memorizing his features and flushing at the wink he tossed her as he turned the corner. No, she definitely had never met this boy before. Slamming her locker door closed, the blonde made it her new mission to figure out exactly who he was. After that, she'd figure out who the hell he thought he was.

The bang startled Mr. Jones, looking up from where he had been grading papers. Through the glass in his door, he could see an angry Haley James heading down the hallway, and God help the person she was after. He cringed at the thought. One of his brightest students, but she certainly was a wily one. He laughed aloud at her display in class earlier, managing to both horrify him with her sense of humor and dazzle with her intellect.

A soft smile remained from the laughter as he continued on with his papers. It was one of his favorite assignments of the year, to see his students try to sum up all they wanted in one word. It never failed to amuse him, as was evidenced by the paper that could only have been Tim Smith's ("HOTCHICKS. Wait, is that one word?") However, a puzzled expression crossed his features as he mused over what had been written by the "star student". Haley James's signature loopy script graced the paper, the word written in purple ink as always, regardless of the fact that he had practically begged them to use either blue or black. No, it was the word itself, written by the girl who seemed to have it made, that caused him much deeper thought. She had followed the assignment perfectly. There was only one word written on the page to describe her heart's desires.

_Change. _

* * *

_Please please please review and let me know what you think. This is my first naley, and it's really different form anything else I've done._

_Thanks for reading!_

_xox Sam_


	2. Chapter 2

**Winds of Change**

_Two_

"So, remind me why we're _here_ and not at Brandon's party," Brooke drawled, making no move to get up, but curiosity lacing her tone. They were a tangle of limbs upon the living room floor, strewn among dozens of fluffy pillows and warm blankets. It was Friday night, and this was certainly not the normal for them. Maybe on Wednesdays, but definitely not Friday. Brooke, Haley and Peyton didn't just run with the scene—they _were _the scene.

"Because Haley's got a problem that getting drunk won't solve," Peyton muttered as she carefully retouched the coat of red nail polish upon her toes. Like the rest of her body, her toes were long and thin and flexible. Peyton could even pick things up with them. She liked to say that they were just _useful_, but Brooke had long declared them creepy, dubbing them her "second fingers".

"Because some time tonight, Chris is going to show up. I need you guys to be here to remind me **not** to forgive him," Haley explained, moaning at how codependent she had gotten.

"Our specialty!" Brooke laughed, and Peyton nodded in silent agreement. If there was anything they were good at, it was magnifying the flaws of Chris Keller. And there was so many to choose from.

"Great!" Haley chirped with false enthusiasm. "Now please remind me exactly why I should kick his ass to the curb. I need to be prepared."

"Well, he's cocky," Peyton said, and they had a mutual flashback to their first encounter with "**_the_** Chris Keller". Brooke cringed as Haley laughed slightly.

"Hell yes, make sure that's on the list. And, he, um… he's inattentive," Brooke beamed, proud of herself for summoning up a "Haley word" on such short notice.

"So true," Haley muttered resentfully, flipping the channels on the television. _The Wedding Singer_? Don't think so. _Cruel Intentions? _Hum…

"He's really not that good a musician," Peyton added, her musical expertise shining through. Only a bit of condescension laced her voice.

"_I'm_ more muscular than he is," Brooke chimed in. Sad, but true.

"And he's no good in bed," Peyton added helpfully. Haley's honey gaze widened in shock, as Brooke turned an amused eye to this new information.

"No, I mean, you said so yourself!" protested the curly blonde. Grimacing, she added in a disgusted tone, "Me, sleep with Chris Keller! _God_, Haley! Not only is he your boyfriend… he's Chris Keller!"

"As that was only mildly insulting, we'll let it slide," Haley said, returning her attention to the small screen. A tiny smile flitted across her features as they traced the fine features of Ryan Phillippe, star of the movie she was watching. Now _that_ was what she needed. Someone gorgeous and charming, and who really cared if they lacked morals? Haley James wasn't exactly poster child for morality either.

"Oh, and his hair like _defies gravity_. What the fuck is up with that?" Brooke asked irritably, as Peyton laughed. Haley's mind, however, was far from her missing-in-action boyfriend. Earlier this day, she had made the acquaintance of someone who was gorgeous and charming, and didn't exactly strike her as the Alter Boy type.

"Hey, did you guys notice a new guy today?" she asked abruptly. Brooke's electric green eyes widened in excitement.

"Are you going to ditch Keller and take up our way of life?" They could almost see the wheels churning beneath the silky chocolate hair, enthusiasm radiating off her. Brooke Davis was already plotting to restore Haley James to "party girl extraordinaire." Mentally, she drew up a list of all the guys to recommend for hook ups. The perky brunette could be pretty damn organized when she put her mind to it, contrary to her best friends' beliefs.

"Um, no," Haley laughed, and Peyton sighed. Of course Haley wouldn't ditch Chris. For some reason, the pretty blonde had an attachment to the musician. She had been putting up with his shit for some time now, and it didn't appear to be changing any time soon. Haley James had never chased after her own happiness, regarding what didn't fall into her lap as something not worth it. And Peyton could appreciate the occasional selflessness of her best friend, if only she wasn't making herself so miserable in the process.

"You're better off without him," she stated simply, screwing the cap back onto the nail polish and blowing lightly.

"DON'T CALL HIM!" Brooke shrieked, diving across the mounds of pillows to tackle the phone away from Haley. A brief struggle ensued, ending with a struggling blonde pinned to the couch, a triumphant brunette sitting on top of her.

"Intervention time, P. Sawyer?" she said casually to her friend. Grinning despise herself, Peyton rose and took a seat on Haley's bony knees. They ignored the agitated grunts from beneath them.

"So, here's the thing: your boyfriend sucks," Peyton said bluntly, looking into her best friend's eyes with no trace of laughter. The look upon Haley's face was one that she wasn't used to. It was not anger or confusion or pain. Her eyes reflected that she already knew exactly what they were trying to tell her, but couldn't figure out why they were saying it.

"And Hales, you're so smart, and you're funny, and you're _so_ pretty. You definitely don't need him," Brooke nodded firmly, wavering slightly as Haley shifted below.

"I understand what you're saying, but I really can't breathe," the blonde choked out, pushing slightly at her friends. They jumped off immediately, kneeling at her side.

"You okay, skinny girl?" Brooke asked.

"Physically? Sure," Haley said, her eyes sliding closed. The lids of her eyes were slightly moist when she reopened them, and Peyton could feel anger stab at her heart. How could someone hurt their Haley like that? Brooke seemed to mirror her thoughts.

"Alright, group hug! And then we can all accomplice-ize each other as we murder Chris Keller," Brooke gathered the two people she loved most between her bony arms. Haley's laughter was muffled against her shoulder.

"I was wrong, before. _This_ is an entirely new level of pathetic," the pretty blonde mumbled, but that was not what alarmed her friends. Her voice had been stripped of its usual aloof quality. That was what made Haley James so elite, so untouchable. She was unaffected; seeming to float above what troubled all of them, always poised if not cold. Without her ice to fall back upon, she was just raw before them, and Brooke could feel tears start to wet her bare shoulder.

"I hate him. I hate him **_so_** much," Haley sobbed, as Brooke rubbed her back comfortingly, sending signals with her eyes to Peyton Sawyer that they had finally reached Haley's breaking point. Silently, the curly blonde moved to the window. This window, Haley left open constantly for the past few months. It was this window to which Chris Keller would come with his guitar. To this window, he would beg forgiveness with a guitar and some pretty words. As quietly as she could, she lowered the glass panes, snapping shut the latches, and smiling satisfactorily at her work. There would be no absolution for Chris Keller tonight.

Besides, he sucked at singing.

* * *

There was an internal timer, somewhere deep within Haley James's petite body. It was this that ensured she had never had a "tardy" mark in all of her life. It was this timer that made sure she never slept her days away. It was also this timer that made sure she had first dibs on the bathroom, when her best friends slept over. Thirty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of smoke, draped in white towels, to see her best friends still unconscious on her floor. Brooke lay peacefully on her stomach, her little butt poking up as she slept on. Peyton shifted uneasily on her side, her face twitching slightly. Sighing, she smoothed the blanket over her blonde friend, wishing deep down that Peyton would find a way to be _okay_.

Dressing in a rather revealing sundress, Haley glanced out the bay windows, admiring the fact that it was still so warm in late September. They had certainly gotten lucky this year. Briefly, she debated with waking up her best friends. However, one look at the beautiful blonde, and she knew that she couldn't. Peyton Sawyer seemed to have finally settled down, and Haley knew better than anyone how difficult it was for her to sleep. No, she wouldn't wake her, and Brooke was a force of nature sure to disturb the sleeping girl. She would just go for breakfast by herself. She'd bring something back for them.

Looking in the mirror, she quickly swiped on lip gloss and eye liner. Moments after she was done, her light brown eyes remained trained on the reflective glass. She felt it was mocking her, in a way. What it threw back in her face was perfection. She looked perfect, her gorgeous, sleep-addled friends were perfect, her bedroom was perfect, her outfit was perfect. Everything was just goddamn perfect, and she couldn't figure out why that made her so angry.

Haley slipped out silently, not wanting to alert anyone. She would much rather be alone right now. On her way down the path, she was greeted with an unusual sight. Chris Keller, her boyfriend of months (when he was actually around, that is) was sleeping on her front lawn, his guitar propped up beside him. Curiously, she wondered why he hadn't called to her the night before. Her gaze fell upon the window, shut and locked and symbolic. She couldn't even muster up anger at her friends for manipulating events. She felt nothing really, a simmering rage that she was so used to it was barely real anymore, having settled deep beneath her skin. All she could do was walk on, fighting the urge to puncture his throat with her stiletto heels.

* * *

The bells jingled cheerfully, and Haley couldn't help but smile as she stepped inside the café. Karen's Café, as it was so creatively dubbed, was a place so full of warmth and care that anybody who stepped inside couldn't help but be swept up within it. Karen had been a teenage mother. The mother of Lucas Roe, Brooke's newest conquest, to be specific. Haley had a certain detached fascination with the woman. She had never spoken more than five passing sentences to her, but she admired her and couldn't help but wish they knew each other better.

Lucas came to take her order. He really was **hot**, with his sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. They crinkled at the corners when he wanted to smile. She liked that about him. After this morning's brief encounter with Chris's slumbering form, Haley wanted nothing more than to lash out. She flirted half-heartedly with Lucas, knowing that anything more would be crossing one of the well-defined boundaries of Best Friends. Lucas was Brooke's, for this weekend at least. As she mentally outlined these boundaries, she could feel eyes boring into her back, revealed by her dress. Turning her head, she looked over her shoulder through her loose curls, and found a familiar sight. She just wasn't sure if it was a welcome one. At booth 4 sat the gorgeous guy she had had the briefest of conversations and the longest of staring matches with. The confident smirk that she already associated with him was on full display, and she thought about her next move.

Picking up her diet soda, she plopped as gracefully as possible into the booth, opposite him. Instead of questioning or greeting or even appearing interested, he just continued to stare.

"Well, I _know_ you can speak. So why aren't you?" she questioned, flicking a golden ringlet out of her face. He laughed, a melodious little sound that echoed in her mind, bringing a tiny smile to her own lips.

"You're an interesting girl, Haley James," he shook his dark head, an amused smile gracing his full lips.

She opened her mouth to respond with something witty or amusing, but stopped. How did he know her name? "Have we met before?" she asked, knowing that the answer was no. Surely they hadn't met before. She would _definitely_ remember _him_. The flickering in his eyes suggested that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Nope. I'm new here."

"Of course you are," Haley said. "Well, let me tell you how things work around here. You and I are not going to run in the same social circle. You don't get to touch me, or hit on me, or even stare for prolonged amount of time."

"Says who?" his pale blue eyes twinkled, clearly amused instead of intimidated.

"Hum… I don't know, really. That's just kind of how it goes," she frowned slightly.

"So let me guess—you're one of a few select girls that make up the elite, and so everyone else is expected to bow down to you. You're used to this position, so your people skills are a little lacking to say the least. You should really work on that, Hales," he simpered, his tone clearly amused. Her eyes widened at the truth in his words, her pride refusing to admit it.

"You don't know anything about me," she spat defensively, picking up Brooke's habit of crossing her thin arms below her chest. She slightly sucked in the left corner of her mouth, which would be a flashing neon sign to Brooke or Peyton that she was nuclear meltdown angry. No one else would notice, because they had never gotten close enough to her. The thought was surprisingly painful.

"If you insist," he shrugged.

"Who the hell are you?" she questioned, eager to turn the tables on him. She was damn sick of talking about herself.

"Nathan Scott."

The name suited him. The Scotts, she remembered the name vaguely, were prominent among North Carolina society, and she recognized his dark good looks as a resemblance to his father. _Nathan_ sounded like a strong name, and judging by the pleasant bulging of his biceps through his crisp polo, the man before her was indeed strong. For just a second, she imagined what it would be like to fall asleep in those arms, instead of Chris's, which were probably skinnier than her own. Her thoughts shocked even her, and Haley James was becoming quite unsettled by how Nathan Scott seemed to read her mind, smirking knowingly at her. His pink lips parted to say something, (most likely something snarky, Haley thought with a wince) when strains of music interrupted him, starting off quietly before drowning out all other noise.

_Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me_

_I think they're O.K._

_If they don't give me proper credit_

_I just walk away_

_They can beg and they can plead_

_But they can't see the light, that's right_

_'Cause the boy with the cold hard cash_

_Is always Mister Right, 'cause we are_

_Living in a material world_

_And I am a material girl_

_You know that we are living in a material world_

_And I am a material girl_

For the briefest of moments, she thought she observed a genuinely amused smile tugging at his lips. In an instant, it was gone, to be replaced with a look of blank indifference. "It's not mine," he deadpanned.

Rolling her eyes, she flipped open her cell phone without even checking the screen. She didn't have to. "Hey Tigger."

In her mind's eye, she could see her best friends clearly. Peyton would swipe groggily at her large hazel eyes, golden curls mussed by restless sleep, croaking obscenities at Brooke for waking her up. The brunette would be oblivious, bouncing around the room with her dark brown hair pulled up haphazardly in a bun, strands falling out and framing her face, her ear pressed firmly to Haley's metallic phone.

"Haley, 1. Where the hell are you? And 2. You better have bagels!" her upbeat voice blared through the cellular phone's tiny speakers, alerting anyone in the vicinity as to _exactly _what she was saying. Haley couldn't help but notice how Lucas looked up upon hearing Brooke's voice. Smiling slightly, a plan began to swirl in her mind as she gestured her order for six bagels.

"I'm at the café. I'll be back in like ten minutes," at this, Haley snuck a glance at Nathan, "and hell yes I've got bagels."

"I loooooove you!" Brooke shrieked before there was a loud **OOMPH!**, and a clicking noise. Haley had the faint impression that Peyton had finally paid Brooke back for waking her up.

"Well, I'm so sorry to cut this _delightful_ meeting short, but I've got to be going," Haley rose, a fake smile plastered to her pouty lips. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, she made her way to the counter, and could feel his ocean-colored eyes burning holes into her back. _Dammit._

Fifteen minutes later, Haley James was making her way back home. The majestic James home was in sight, but she was cursing herself for wearing such insensible but adorable sandals, when she became aware of a car driving slowly behind her. Glancing, alarmed, over her tanned shoulder, her honey gaze took in a brand new Mercedes…and a very familiar figure in the driver's seat. Impressed despite herself, Haley squared her shoulders and whirled to face him.

"What are you doing?"

"Driving," he laughed lightly, at her paranoia mostly, and she was caught between wanting to hear more of the sound and wanting him to shut the hell up. He accelerated slightly, pulling into the driveway on the boundary line of her family's property and the massive estate next door. Haley noticed that Chris was still passed out on her front lawn, and prayed to God that somehow Nathan had missed this detail.

"What are you, _stalking_ me?" Haley demanded, hands on hips.

Again he laughed, and she was angry at how he managed to remain so cool while she got all riled up. Marching indignantly over to him, she stood toe-to-toe with the boy who was currently infuriating her beyond anything she had ever known. She had to tilt her head back as far as it went in order to make eye contact with him, but refused to be intimidated. However, his beautiful eyes were not on her, for the first time since they met.

"Boyfriend?" he asked, arching a dark eyebrow in Chris's direction.

"Jealous?" the petite blonde asked scathingly. The musician chose this moment to let out a snore, and if the ground would open up and swallow Haley James whole at this moment, that would be great.

Nathan Scott didn't respond, his eyes snapping from Chris back to Haley, but his hysterical laughter echoed across the grounds, still shaking his muscular frame as he shut the dark wood front door of the mansion next door to hers. Her eyes wandered warily to a massive sign on the perfectly manicured lawn. Just perfect, Haley thought, his laughter still reverberating through her. Abso-fucking-lutely _perfect_.

_SOLD_

* * *

_So this chapter was **really **hard to write, because I got such nice reviews for the first chapter. Hopefully I didn't destroy everything in this one. Let me know? Lol_

_Thanks for reading!_

_Xox Sam_


	3. Chapter 3

**Winds of Change**

_Three_

Her harsh honey glare would've vaporized the cell phone if it were any stronger.

"If looks could really kill," Brooke Davis chirped in a singsong lightly, but quivered under the death stare shot at her by her best friend. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, she flopped backwards on her deck chair, sliding her Gucci sunglasses to cover her bright green eyes. Absently, her fingers tapped on her exposed midriff, playing along the surfaces not covered by her black bikini. Tree Hill's hottest trio had been reveling in the abnormally hot weather by pretending it was July, grabbing tabloids, strawberry daiquiris, and suntan lotion and lounging by the pool. However, the girls-day-in was not quite as satisfying as they thought.

"I'm bored as hell," Peyton sighed, voicing what they had all been thinking. Her blonde curls were almost painfully bright as they caught the sun's light. Squinting her large hazel eyes, she carefully studied her friend's features. Haley James's face was still beautiful, of course. Her skin was still flawless and her cheekbones still high, but there was something ugly and anxious about her today. Her forehead was faintly lined, a slight frown puckering. Her warm brown eyes were narrowed malevolently, boring into her top of the line cell phone. As if it was Cingulair's fault that Chris Keller was an asshole.

Haley's delicate hand gestured hopelessly towards her back, and Peyton dutifully redid the red bikini strings, admiring her friend's new tan. During the summer, Peyton Sawyer would never really tan so much as have an extra sort of glow to her milky white skin. However, her two best friends tanned beautifully, and she couldn't help but be a little proud of how hot her longtime friends had gotten.

Sitting up, with her bathing suit securely fastened, Haley rolled out the kinks in her neck, long blonde hair swishing back and forth. Her pert nose wrinkled in disgust at her own actions, knowing how pathetic it was that she had secretly spent the last few hours waiting for a phone call that she knew wouldn't come. Still, she couldn't help but hope that her cell would blare the tones that signified her long-term boyfriend was trying to talk to her, the ring that Peyton had comically changed to The Atari's "Your Boyfriend Sucks" . Neither Brooke nor Haley could object to it, much to the blonde's irritation.

"I don't know. What should we do?" she asked, nibbling lightly on her full lower lip. Neither Brooke nor Peyton had anything to contribute, which was always a rare occurrence. Silence fell upon the massive pool area of the James Manor, the clear blue water of the pool sparkling enticingly. It was a beautiful color, full of depth and shades. It was a familiar color, the color of eyes that bore into her, pinning her to the spot and irritating her more than anything else ever had.

"We could solve Haley's "problem" so we don't spend another lame night starring a sob fest and also featuring Ben and Jerry's," Brooke grumbled, and anyone who didn't know the true Brooke Penelope Davis would think she sounded every bit the mindless party girl she was said to be. However, the two girls beside her knew her better than they knew themselves, and they knew that the brunette's pouts and impatience just veiled her deep desire to have things back to normal.

Chris Keller was no good for Haley James. Brooke and Peyton had seen it two weeks into the relationship, while their usually level-headed companion was swept off her feet with sweet kisses and serenades. Months later, Haley clung to a relationship that seemed long dead, determined to pump life into it every time Chris's band was in town. Why, none of them really knew.

"Pros and Cons?" Peyton suggested helpfully.

"I think you guys have already covered the cons," Haley said, her voice _sickly_ sweet.

"Hun, there are plenty more where that came from," Brooke patted her head in a grandmotherly fashion. Peyton's sharp hazel eyes continued to watch her friend, gauging her reaction. She smiled a little, humoring Brooke, but there was tension in her small frame, as if the weight of the world sat upon her narrow shoulders.

"Actually, let's not talk about this now," the curly blonde said, shaking her head firmly. Brooke's bright green gaze locked onto Peyton questioning, but Haley shot her a grateful smile, and Brooke nodded with understanding dawning upon her pretty face.

"Let's girl chat!" Brooke said eagerly. "It's been so long since we had a really good one. Mostly they've been about Chris and music and how Haley's being stupid. No offense, sweetie," she tossed off in Haley's direction, who waved it away indifferently. "Let's talk about other stuff."

"Like what?" Haley asked, eager for the topic change.

"How about _your_ love life, B. Davis? Operation: Get In Lucas's Pants a completed success yet?" Peyton questioned, a grin tugging at her lips.

Brooke's mouth contorted into the pout she was so infamous for.

_Among other things, at least. _

"Now, how the hell would that have happened? I've been glued to you two 24/7!" she was whining again, but good-naturedly this time. Even though Brooke's list of conquests was long and varied, she always preferred the company of her girls to that of her boy toys. She had never really found someone who made her want to stay past the post-orgasm afterglow.

"Well, you never know," Haley shrugged her newly tanned shoulders, thinking back to her brief interaction with Lucas at the café. He had seemed so into Brooke that she might just have gotten him.

"Good God Hales, I know that you tend to live out there in Haleyland, but I would _hope_ you'd notice if I was fucking some guy right in front of you," Brooke cried in exasperation, thin fingers tugging slightly at her long brown hair. This was clearly a girl who had gone too long without release. Brooke needed sex like Haley needed confrontation and Peyton needed freaky art. They thrived off it.

"If you're having sex in the same room as me, I hope I _don't_ notice!" Haley laughed, her small nose wrinkling in distaste. She kind of admired her best friend. Brooke Davis was a girl who knew what she wanted, went out, got it, and was never at all ashamed of pursuing it so openly. People called her a slut, but Haley knew better. Brooke got sex when she wanted sex, but her ways applied to everything from boys to money to grades to friends. If Brooke wanted it, she'd work damn hard, and she would get it. Brooke was fearless and ruthless, and Haley would be lying if she said she wasn't jealous.

Peyton chuckled along with them. "This is nice," she voiced what they were all thinking. Peyton Sawyer had always been the most sentimental of the girls, and was fiercely protective when it came to them. Her father had been in the Atlantic and her mother had been in heaven for so long it seemed like it had always been that way. Haley and Brooke _were _her family, and she would do anything for them. It always seemed like the trio mattered just a little bit more to her than it did to the others, but their deep bond was glue, and they were just pieces. Nothing would break them, and it was nice for Peyton to be able to breath easily every once in a while. It was nice to know she had something solid.

"Yeah. But let's not get all sentimental yet. What's going on in your romance world, Goldilocks?" Brooke teased, the dimple in her cheek deepening. Haley raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, waiting eagerly for the answer.

"Absolutely nothing," she sighed, toying with a curl. "This world is severely underpopulated."

"Like starving third-world country-esque?" Haley inquired.

"Perhaps emergency aid will be sent her way," Brooke mused, appearing to inspect her nail polish but actually watching her friend's reactions. Peyton looked torn, Haley slightly amused.

"I don't think she wants your leftovers, Tigger," Haley admonished, jokingly.

Brooke and Peyton shared a smile over the return of their friend's spirit. Chris Keller, though Haley seemed to love him for some reason or another, had seemed to do nothing but suck her dry. She was vaguely moody when he was around, and bitter and insecure when he wasn't. They could think of hundreds of gross metaphors involving mosses and dermatological issues where the person afflicted was just plagued over and over again, their ailment coming back every time they thought it was gone. But the atmosphere was a little too happy for them to dive back into disgusting figures of speech, and just enjoyed that Haley was really laughing again.

"Well then she'll have very slim pickings!" said Brooke, a wicked grin curling the lips that so many boys at Tree Hill High fantasized over. Haley swatted at her, as Peyton tossed her head back and laughed. Normally, she'd be a little worried that there were so many guys around and she couldn't find a single one that she wanted to commit to. But there was something about the day that made it okay to just laugh. Besides, with Haley and Chris around, it was a wonder _anybody _wanted to commit. Ever.

"Whore," Peyton shot across, and Brooke's smile widened.

"Bitch," she said affectionately.

Conversation drifted off lazily, the late-afternoon sunshine warming them as they sipped their cool drinks. Haley couldn't help but smirk at the situation. These three, plus bikinis? Now, that was a key component of many a teenage boy's wet dream. She was about to say so, when Brooke cut her off. Which wasn't unusual at all, really.

"Holy. Shit," her bright green eyes, ringed with black, widened in shock as she lifted her designer sunglasses to the top of her head. "Hales, can I move in with you?"

"Um, sure. You practically live here anyway," Haley laughed slightly, humoring her friend. Brooke, Haley and Peyton could all live in a box on a downtown street corner, and their parents wouldn't notice. It would hardly matter if they moved into the James Manor

Peyton's gaze followed Brooke's, and her jaw dropped in pleasant surprise. "Fuck Haley! Let's move in with _him_."

Too tired to be offended, Haley sat up to see what all the fuss was about. Rolling her eyes irritably, she discovered that the source of the commotion was none other than her new neighbor. Trust Brooke to be the one to discover it first when a man was around. But God, if water looked enticing in her swimming pool, that was nothing compared to how it looked on Nathan Scott.

A _shirtless_ Nathan.

A basketball playing, shirtless Nathan.

A muscles-rippling, chest-glistening Nathan.

Haley would have to stop her thoughts **_right there_**.

However, her eyes trailed along his taut chest for a bit too long, and she was absolutely busted.

"Have you hooked up with him yet?" Peyton demanded, and they were all surprised. That was usually Brooke's first question.

"Okay, in case you guys forgot, I happen to have a boyfriend named Chris."

"How could we forget?" Brooke grumbled, ignoring the glare Haley shot her.

"**_Hello_**! Are you fucking kidding me? Chris has **_nothing_** on that, right there," Peyton gestured impatiently across the yard.

"That is the epitome of HOT," Brooke nodded, licking her lips slightly. For some reason, Haley felt threatened by that.

"He's okay," she muttered, eyes downcast. She didn't want to talk about this, not with Brooke and Peyton. Not with anyone. Nathan Scott was something else, and she did _not_ want him on either of her best friend's radars.

"**_Okay_**!" they shrieked at once.

"Hales, I think you've spent so much time tied to Chris that you forget what a man is supposed to look like," Peyton said. Haley let her slide on how aggressive she was being. That was how P. Sawyer usually got when she went for too long without a hook up.

"Okay, fine, he's gorgeous. But you know what? His personality? Not so nice. I mean, he's cocky—"

"I'll say," Brooke's eyes trailed down his body, and a suggestive smirk spread across her face.

"Stop it!" Haley whined, burying her head in her hands. She knew when she was defeated.

"Oh my God. I know what this is," comprehension dawned across Brooke's gorgeous face. "Haley J's got the hots for neighbor boy!"

"Brooke, do your parents have to up your allowance to support your crack habit?" she spat viciously, honey eyes gleaming in the way they always did when she felt cornered. Instead of being offended, Brooke took this as a sign of victory.

"Have you screwed him yet?" she leaned forward conspiratorially.

"What? No! Guys, I have a boyfriend!" Haley protested.

"So? We wouldn't tell," Peyton made their childhood motion of zipping her mouth and throwing away the key, winking at her friend.

"I would've done him already," Brooke's disappointed stare lingered on Haley.

"As you would anything with a six-pack and a dick," she said scathingly. "Maybe you guys aren't sure what _monogamy _means, but some of us in relationships try it out."

"You know, I don't think it counts when there's only one person in the relationship," Brooke shot back.

"Okay, why is bitch being a Haley?" Peyton's blonde eyebrows knit together in the middle, a puzzled frown forming on her face. Gone was the laughing, happy Hales they had spent time with this afternoon, and back was the scowling, defensive Haley. Haley stormed away, done with the conversation, done with having bitter truths ring in her ears when all she wanted were sweet lies. Brooke and Peyton didn't follow, knowing that sometimes it was best to just leave their volatile friend to her own devices. None of them knew that it would be two A.M. before the call Haley had waited for so long for would come.

The glowing display of the cell phone could be seen as a beacon of hope in contrast to the darkness of her bedroom. Haley James lay wide awake, her eyes shining with its reflection. To an outsider, she would look small, trembling and scared, frail in the enormity of her bedroom. Those who truly knew her would know that there had never been anything trembling or scared about Haley. No one could explain why she merely lay there as the phone rang on and on. Not even her.

_You're better off without him, don't call him..._

_He's breaking your heart._

_He's hanging with your best friend and you're waiting there,_

_It's tearing you apart._

_He lied to you a thousand times,_

_When I was there he kept you waiting._

_And I'm still here waiting there_

_To catch you if you fall._

_I don't know why I care so much_

_When I shouldn't care at all._

* * *

Hey guys. Sorry it took so long between updates, but things have been really crazy here. I hope you liked this chapter, but please let me know.

Thanks for the reviews so far guys. They mean a ton to me.

Xox Sam


	4. Chapter 4

**Winds of Change**

_Four_

"Popcorn?"

"Check."

Peyton Sawyer rattled off a list of "sleepover necessities" as Haley James cheerful checked them off.

"Gummi bears? Crunch bars?"

"Check… check"

"Fuck that," Brooke Davis broke in, her voice heavily lined with irritation. "We're going to a party."

"I know, shocked, right?" she continued off her friends' widened gazes. "Who knew we were still invited to parties, what with all the hermitting we've been doing?"

"We have not been _hermitting_. That's not even a real word," Haley protested, but the gleam in Peyton's hazel eyes let her know early on that it was a two-against-one battle she could very well be losing.

"Sure. We could use "pity party" instead."

"Wallowing in misery?" Brooke intoned helpfully.

"Hiding from reality?" Peyton ploughed on.

Haley's glare intensified as she looked between her two best friends. "Ooh ooh! E, all of the above!" she mock-cheered.

"Well, I think that right there eliminates the "hiding from reality" aspect," Peyton mused.

"Good job, Haley J," Brooke patted her on the back.

"I don't get why you don't want to go out anyway. I mean, it's not like you're going to run into him. That would require a non-nomadic boyfriend," Peyton said, but noticed Haley's wince. "Sorry. Too soon to joke?"

Her thin thumb and index finger resided an inch apart, Haley's way of saying 'Hell yes, too soon, dumb bitch' without actually speaking. Fortunately for her, she'd never really needed to speak where Brooke and Peyton were involved-and the blonde had never let the term "bitch" offend her.

"So shall B. Davis and I get our skinny asses out of here so you can get ready, or do you want us to come back with the beauty arsenal?" Peyton asked, her bright eyes dancing mischievously. She did have a point. It had been so long since The Elite made an appearance that it was kind of surprising that they still kept their title. Not _too_ surprising, considering they were Haley James, Brooke Davis, and Peyton Sawyer, and if they were removed from the social scene, residents of Tree Hill would have to find new goddesses to fill the position the three had since middle school. But hey, it was always a possibility.

"Well, it's been way too long since I've gotten any, because not that I don't love you guys, but you don't carry much sex appeal with me, so if we could get to this party ASAP, that'd be great," Brooke continued, snapping Haley from her thoughts. The perky brunette was the only person Haley had ever known who pronounced "ASAP" like it was a word in itself, instead of "A.S.A.P.", like everyone else on the planet.

"Arsenal," the weary blonde sighed, feeling detached from her friends as they cheered excitedly and she sank back onto her futon. When Peyton was elated, golden flecks in the hazel of her eyes became more prominent, giving them a pretty glow and turning them almost amber. Brooke's adorable little hop-clap had her feet off the ground in a move that looked ridiculous on anyone other than the cheerleading captain. Seeing this, Haley James knew that she couldn't deny her friends their party. They had done so much for her lately, and fair was fair.

This, of course, didn't mean she wouldn't whine.

"I don't see why I have to go at all. Nothing looks good on me today," she sighed dramatically, dropping her fifteenth outfit choice onto her antique French fainting chair. Her parents had purchased it for her during what was known as Haley's "période dramatique" to her friends and loved ones. A bordering-on-unhealthy interest had suddenly sprung up within the petite blonde for old movies. This period had passed, more or less, but that didn't mean that a walk in closet or two of Haley's wasn't full of trench coats, head scarves or cigarette holders. The fainting chair had gotten a lot of use in those days.

"I wonder if neighbor boy over there will be there?" her alert green eyes scanned the property subconsciously. Peyton was by her side in half a second, but Haley was much slower on this night.

"Why would he be there?"

"Because Lucas Roe got the keys to Tric while his mom's out of town. So _hello_, major party right there. And he's friends with him, isn't he? Basketball bonding, and all."

"Wonderful," Haley blew out, but her friends didn't seem to hear her. If they did, they completely ignored her, and she was kind of glad. She was getting sick on them calling her on her bitchiness. They were completely right to do so, of course, but sometimes Haley would just like to be unjustifiably cranky, and they were preventing it.

"Haley, come on, he's _hot_. If you don't do him, I'm totally going to," Brooke declared, whirling around with her hands on her hips. The blonde was tempted to point out that as Brooke was standing before her in only polka-dot panties and a pink t-shirt, she was far from intimidating, but bit her tongue. If her friend wanted to wield imaginary power, far be it for her to stop her.

"Brooke, chances of you _not_ fucking him, whether I do or not, are slim to none."

"Are you serious?" she gasped. "I would totally lay off if you laid claim! Have I ever gone after Chris?"

"Would you go after Chris anyway?" Peyton calling from the corner, retouching her glossy curls at Haley's vanity.

"_So _not the point!" Brooke waved her perfectly manicured hand at Peyton impatiently. "The point is that I'm a good friend, even though I happen to enjoy sex more than the average girl, and that I would back off if you wanted him."

"Of course you're a good friend, Tigger," Haley said soothingly, trying to hide her shock at Brooke's outburst. Somebody was most definitely menstrual.

"So do you?" her cheer was back, a complete one-eighty from the verge of tears she had previously been on.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want him?" she asked slowly, as if her best friend was new to English.

"Okay, I'm positive you guys know this by now, but here's a fresher course. There's a rising star in the musical world. His name is Chris Keller, and he happens to be my boyfriend. Boyfriends usually frown upon their girlfriends having sex with people they barely know."

"I think I heard a _usually_ in there," Brooke smirked. "And you and Chris are so… _un_usual!"

"Besides, don't girlfriends usually answer their boyfriend's calls?" Peyton asked, hazel eyes meeting honey brown through the mirror's reflection. Haley's narrowed instantly, flashing messages that even a blind person could read: _Shut the hell up. NOW. _

"When did Haley not take Chris's call? How did I miss this?" Brooke asked, eager for the inside story. Hurt that she didn't already know would set in much later.

"Last night at 12:56, according to Mr. Cingular,' said Peyton, the gleam in her eyes challenging Haley to protest.

"I was asleep. I didn't know he called."

"Bullshit! We left your house fifteen minutes before that!"

Caught in her lie, Haley's pale pink mouth gaped, her frantic search for words coming to an end as Peyton continued.

"Face it, Hales. You're ready to get out of this joke of a relationship, and trust me, we're right behind you on that one. I don't know what's taking so long."

"Besides, isn't change what you want?" Brooke put in eagerly, and Haley froze mid-spin from where she had been heading towards her closet. "What better way to change than to leave behind the parts that weigh you down?"

"How did you know about that?" she asked slowly. Haley James was an interesting person. For someone who had lived her entire life under the glaring spotlight, she could be intensely, painfully private. The knowledge that Brooke somehow accessed this secret wish of hers bugged her. A lot.

"That's what you wrote on the One Word assignment," she shrugged her thin shoulders, as if this was common knowledge.

"And how did you know _that_?" she asked pointedly.

"The paper was in your binder."

"My GOD!" Haley exploded, throwing her tube of mascara to the ground. It cracked, oozing the thick make up through the jagged partition. Anyone else would be annoyed by this, but should this happen in any of the three girls' houses, there was a maid just waiting for messes like these, and at least ten back-up sets of the cosmetics. They were good for now. "You're going through my binder; Peyton's going through my phone! What does a girl have to do to get some privacy around here!"

"I think the better question is why do you need privacy?" Brooke asked slowly, and the look in her eyes was wounded. Peyton's head slowly swirled, turning to meet Haley's eyes directly for the first time that night.

"What don't you trust us with, Haley?"

And something that had been happening more and more frequently occurred yet again. The unconquerable Haley James had no response.

Part of her loved parties. Her entire being loved music, but part of it adored the way it made people lose control. As the beat pulsed on, people could just get stuck inside of it, and live there for as long as they like… or as long as the song will let them. It was this love of music that had initially drawn her into a friendship with Peyton Sawyer. She loved the dancing and the laughter, seeing your friends in an outside-of-school setting.

The other part of her hated parties. Brooke and Peyton were the only real friends she had, and she could see them any old time, and she didn't feel the need to have her clothes thoroughly saturated with other people's spilled alcohol to do so. The drunken laughter rang in her ears, a sign of the hangover to come, and if you drank to try and make it sound less obnoxious, your chances of waking up with a stranger just increased by at least 75. Right now, Haley was torn between love of the fun and hate of the fall out… and if that drunk guy tried to grab her ass one more time, she'd have to make good on her parents' investment in Tai kwon do instruction.

She wasn't even sure what the hell she was doing there anyway. After the soap opera moment that had taken place in her bedroom an hour or so previously, Brooke had dramatically stormed out. Peyton went more sluggishly, making sure her intent to leave was noted but giving Haley time to jump in and rectify the harm. She had nothing to say though, nothing to fix… whatever happened. And now she found herself in the middle of Tric, her silk top mercifully free of stains. Then again, the night was young, and she was Haley James. It wasn't a party until she was there. At least, she and her two best friends. She felt strangely naked without them on the sides of her, and stumbled slightly around the party, knowing that if it were any other night, she would sway and latch onto Peyton as they all laughed, or Brooke would have a firm clamp on her. Tonight, she was solo. And she wasn't incredibly happy about it.

"**HALEY BOP**!"

Grimacing at the nickname her parents had randomly bestowed upon her at childhood, Haley James turned slowly, partly to avoid breaking her neck by falling off her sky-high heels, partly out of wariness for whoever could be calling her. It was a one out of two shot, and neither was particularly appealing, as neither were speaking to her as of two hours ago.

"This is Haley, my best friend in the entire world. Isn't she pretty? She's kind of a bitch, though," a flurry of motion and suddenly, in a whirl of green satin and light denim, bare skin and the smell that was so distinctly her, Brooke Davis was beside her, wrapping her thin arms around Haley's neck. More accurately, launching herself at the petite girl, who stumbled under the weight.

"What the hell happened to you, Tig?" Haley muttered, concerned, brushing her friend's bangs back. She wasn't sure what had happened to Brooke, but all her irritation at her irrational behavior had melted away into concern.

"Haley, look! New friends!" she giggled, squeezing as she tugged the blonde towards a table. Color Haley shocked that it was a table full of boys in letterman jackets.

"Brooke, these are not _new_ _friends_," she ground out, her teeth gritted as her mind continued the sentence which would be too cruel to say aloud. _These are not new friends. You've probably slept with most of them._

Her eyes flitted quickly around the table at these 'new friends'. They were all the usual suspects. Mediocre athletes, just good enough to be worshipped as varsity jocks, but never good enough to be stars, and most definitely not good enough to hang with her crowd. Haley couldn't wait for the day when Brooke woke up and realized that. Most of them had the usual half-baked look about them, and she didn't doubt that they were. But if any of them had slipped Brooke the shit they usually take during parties, God help them…

And no one, not even the big bad jocks, wanted to face the wrath of Haley James.

"What the fuck is going on?" she demanded, her free hand itching to plant itself on her slim hips. It was otherwise occupied, making sure that the dazed and giddy Brooke didn't fall over. She was suddenly much happier she was at this party, and she remembered why she dragged herself to them each time. It wasn't love of the music or the laughter so much as love of her friends. If she wasn't there, God knows what would've happened to Brooke. Who knows what could've happened to her a million times before this either? Haley had always had a bit of a wild streak, but it was nothing compared to Brooke's. That was like comparing the tiny stream that ran down her property line that you couldn't fall into if you tried, to the Nile. Haley was the mother hen, shooing the boys with bad intentions away from her gorgeous (and wasted) friends. Right now, she was kicking herself for not having been there the whole time. God knows what Brooke had ingested. And where the hell was Peyton!

Blank stares greeted her, doing absolutely nothing to quell her anger. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" she screamed, the sound seeming to blare from every inch of her 5'2 frame. For someone who weighed 110 pounds while soaking wet, Haley James could be intimidating as hell, and they were all going to know the extent of that if they didn't stop talking.

By now, she had attracted the attention of all around. Being the center of attention had never bothered her, and she barely noticed their stares.

"Hales, what's up?" she felt a slight pinch at the loose skin of her elbow, and she could vaguely make out the smell of watermelon lotion and that kiwi-strawberry lip-gloss that Peyton couldn't get enough of lately. Haley's nerves were calmed slightly knowing that she was there, but judging by her relaxed demeanor, her curly blonde best friend had probably been upstairs working off that sexual tension and didn't have any more of a clue than she did.

"Ooh! This is Peyton, my other bestest friend in the entire world! She's so cute! Although she's a little dark and she desperately needs to get laid. Or _needed_, anyway…" Brooke slurred, giggling again. Her usually sharp green eyes were glazed, and it seemed like she was living in a world all her own as her head drooped slightly.

"Something's up with Brooke, Peyt…" there was a desperate, pleading tone in Haley's low voice. Immediately, Peyton's pale arm latched around Brooke's shoulders, releasing the chokehold Haley had forgotten she was in. Still, she didn't remove her arms from her friend's impossibly thin waist. If she fell down, that would just be another mortification stacked against her.

It was a familiar sensation, the burning on her back. Her head snapped around, meeting the eyes that had become so familiar. They were the ones that seemed to haunt her, the prettiest shade of blue she could ever imagine. They were curious now, his left eyebrow arched slightly as he nodded towards her. For once, she didn't feel like she was the victim in a predator/prey relationship, and signaled him to come forward. He was at her side in a second, Lucas Roe beside him. She was curious as to when they had become friends, but she figured that she could inquire about it later. Like, when her best friend wasn't drugged and hanging onto her for dear life.

"Thank God, guys! I don't know what's going on! I don't know what she took or who she took it with or-"

"Her shirt's ripped. Do you think someone may have gotten to her before you found her, Haley?" Lucas asked seriously. His mouth was set in a grim line, his face stony, but his eyes blazed with anger. She smiled despite herself at his devotion.

"No, the shirt was already like this," Haley and Peyton shared a half-laugh. Lucas paled slightly, and Nathan grinned, revealing perfectly even white teeth. She shook her head, repeating her new mantra: _You have a boyfriend. His name is Chris. You're in love with him. Stop fantasizing about the boy next door. Don't pay so much attention to him. Even if he's absolutely gorgeous. And hot as hell. And he's looking right at you now… _

Her honey eyes widened. That was most certainly not part of the usual mantra. She looked up to see him smirking at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. _Damn_.

"She's definitely on something. But none of these asshats are saying anything, and I don't know what to do," tears rushed to the front of her eyes, and both boys looked much more concerned than they had been before. Lucas lived in Tree Hill, and he was popular. Those two things alone qualified him to be a witness to quite a few Haley James Melt Downs, which were quite infamous. And Nathan… well, he had most certainly been on the receiving end of one or two in the short time he'd been there. However, crying was something new. Lucas looked almost frightened by the moisture, but a look of maturity that she'd yet to encounter settled on Nathan's features.

"Do you have your car?" he asked, swooping the brunette up into his arms. His large hand rested at the crook of her knees and wrapped around her back, splayed across her flat stomach. Her head dropped lazily against his muscular chest, and Lucas looked warily at his friend.

"We're going to get her home. You shut this down and find out what she's on, alright Luke?"

Lucas nodded in understanding, and clapped Nathan on the back as he walked past, shouting something into the crowd, but it was indiscernible amongst the noise of the crowd. She most definitely didn't want to be helpless or drugged, but Haley couldn't felt but feel a tiny twinge of jealousy at Brooke's current position.

"Do you have your car, Haley?" he asked her again, and she shook her head in the negative. It was both a pro and con of being spoiled beyond her wildest dreams that she had a driver. Very convenient on parking, not so much on quick get aways.

"Not a problem. Come with me, I've got my car. Peyton, are you coming with us or helping out Luke?" he asked, and she marveled at his ability to quietly take charge in situations where she felt so panicked. Peyton jerked her head towards the crowd, not even registering shock that he knew her name, giving Haley a quick hug and nodded at Nathan before she disappeared into the crowd. Only the fly away curls were visible above the writhing bodies.

"Ready?"

"Definitely," she said impatiently, but a hint of gratitude was evident in her voice. He didn't call her on it this time, and she was even more grateful. She followed him out to the expensive car she had seen him in a few days earlier, and debated for a moment on where to sit. He gently laid her friend across the backseat, and she didn't move at all. For a moment, Haley thought she was unconscious, but then her legs twitched, pulling themselves into a more comfortable position. This is to say that her ass rose in the air as she rolled onto her stomach. Shaking his head in amusement, Nathan Scott climbed into the driver's seat and cast a look at Haley.

"You coming?"

_Hell yes. That's my best friend, asshole! Why wouldn't I come? Don't smirk at me. Don't you dare give me that look. This is **so** unbelievably not funny. _

She simply nodded instead, sliding into the passenger's seat.

"Where are we going?" he asked, once the car began to roll away from the club. They were already headed west, off instinct. That was where Tree Hill's high society resided, and one look at Brooke Davis told you that she was a west-ender.

"Back to my house, I think."

The rest of the ride was silent, but her peripheral vision told her that Nathan had been sneaking concerned glances towards the back seat.

"She'll be fine," she whispered soothingly, although she wasn't sure why she was trying to console him. Brooke was her best friend, and she was the one freaking out.

"I know," he said coolly, his eyes flickering to her for just a second.

"You sound sure."

"I am sure," he said, turning into their neighborhood, stopping for just a moment at the security. They lived in a gated community with maximum security, and yet none of the wealthy families residing within it ever felt the urge to lock their doors. Haley found that kind of ironic, but then she figured that anybody rich enough to get in certainly didn't need to steal from anybody else. The elderly lady at the booth looked at them with a gleam in her eye, and both knew instantly that the second he drove past, she would be on the phone with all her cronies to tell them that she saw Haley James, yes, _that_ Haley James, coming home late at night with that new cutie, Nathan Scott.

Oh well. There were worse rumors.

"What, do you think this is the first drugged girl I've ever rescued?" he laughed humorlessly, and his eyes took on a dark depth.

"Apparently not," Haley shrugged. "Look… I, uh, I really appreciate what you did back there. You didn't have to help Brooke out like this. Or me, for that matter."

"It's not a big deal," he said, pulling into the driveway. He got out, briskly shutting the door, and Haley wondered about the many shifts in his demeanor. He never seemed like he was the same person each time she had spoken with him, and she was just as intrigued by this Nathan as she was by all the rest.

"It is to me," she said honestly, marveling at the tender care he took to make sure Brooke wasn't bruised as he lifted her out of the car. He half-smiled at her before starting towards her house.

"You've really done enough, Nathan. I can take her from her," she suggested, trying to be helpful. His mouth contorted in amusement.

"Haley, she's bigger than you are. Barely though. Do you guys eat **_at all_**? Never mind, I don't want to know. Just tell me where to put her."

Slightly stung, Haley couldn't figure out whether she was flattered that he thought they were that thin, or insulted because he thought anorexia was their secret. Whatever. She'd have plenty of opportunities to fight with him when he wasn't in a position to drop her best friend on her head.

Although she occasionally wondered if that had happened to Brooke a few times as a baby.

It was peculiar to have him in her bedroom. He looked oddly at home in there, like he belonged in there in some bizarre way. Shaking the thought from her head, she peered at her friend in concern.

"So… those other girls that you've ridden to the rescue for… what happened to them? Do you think that's what happened to Brooke?"

"She's probably on painkillers. Strong ones, and a few too many," he brushed the brunette's long bangs away from her forehead, similar to the way Haley had done it at the party.

"Where the hell would she get those?" Haley asked in outrage, then almost laughed at her own question. Where would Brooke Davis find prescription pain killers? How about every medicine cabinet of every mother on this side of town. Haley's own mother took almost the entire Merck catalog, and Brooke's mother was most certainly not different. Still, neither girl had ever dipped into the stashes beforehand, and suddenly guilt washed over her, draining the color from her face. Was this about their fight?

"Tim's brother's a dealer. He was there tonight," he shrugged slightly, ignoring the stupidity of her question. Still, his words made her feel just a little bit better. At least, the burden of guilt, so sudden in it's coming, lessened upon her shoulders.

"Hey Haley, can you watch her for a little while? I want to see what Luke and Peyton have got. I'll bring Peyton back here."

"Yeah, sure. We'll be fine. Thanks Nathan."

The moonlight illuminated his profile. Finely chiseled features stood out as if they had been carved by a sculptor trying to define perfect. They cast shadows, playing along the planes of his face, but he seemed strangely sad now, as if he had been here before, read the story and remembered the ending. She was intrigued, she would admit now. He shuffled slightly in her doorway, appearing as if there was something else he wanted to say. Instead, he vanished into the darkness that usually occupied the James Manor.

"Oh Tig… what did you get yourself into tonight?" she played with her sleeping friend's hair, sighing heavily. "I'm so sorry, Brookie. I'm sorry I freaked out on you before. I want you to know that I do trust you, I trust you _so_ much. I love you, and I love Peyton, and I really want you to remember that. I know I've been a bitch lately, but things have just been so hard and… no, that's not an excuse either. I'm going to end it, Brooke. It's not fair for me to freak out on you guys all the time because of my sudden masochism. I love you sweetie, sleep tight."

She lay down beside her best friend, but this time there was a song in her heart. She sang aloud, unknowing and uncaring if there was anyone around to hear her, and hoping maybe this time it would mean more to her.

_My soul, here, a million to one_

_Says I didn't even see it_

_Looking up, looking down on my soul_

_Looking everywhere but over where the help is come, coming from_

_Why, why do I seem broken, stumbling, every time I get here?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Winds of Change**

_Five_

"You really don't think he'd want to be my boyfriend?"

"No," the second voice scoffed. "Look at him! Does he look like anybody's _boyfriend_?"

"What if I told him we would be really good friends who just sleep together?" the first continued. A look crossed her face as if she had just deciphered the cure for cancer, but her friends seemed unimpressed.

"Or you could tattoo 'GIANT WHORE' across your forehead," one snarked, and the others giggled slightly. Haley James approached slowly, and the laughter ceased, a look of reverence passing briefly over the girls' faces. Sure, they were popular cheerleaders, but Haley James was in a category higher than they could ever dream.

"Hey girls. Who are you talking about?" she inquired, hoping her tone was as breezy as she'd intended it to be. As if she hadn't been eavesdropping from a few lockers down. The way she saw it was that if they spoke in public places, it was for public ears. Besides, how else would she have dirt on the lower classes?

"Nathan Scott," was the answer, and Haley rolled her eyes irritably. Of course it was him. He was all anybody was talking about lately, quickly snatching the Big Man on Campus position away from Marc Lansquenet, who was most certainly not happy about it. It seemed like a natural transition to the students of Tree Hill High, but Haley was miffed. Not to mention, Marc was her only company in that category, it seemed. Even Brooke, regular fuck buddy of the football captain, wasn't annoyed by it. She usually enjoyed the status of her conquests, subconsciously noting that the higher the status, the more power she was exerting. A few months ago, it was common knowledge that Brooke Davis could have anyone in the school if she really wanted them. But now there was a new top dog, and Brooke seemed unaffected.

"It's a basketball town anyway, Hales," she'd shrugged.

Normally, a more dramatic reaction could be drawn by Brooke from telling her that you switched your French manicure from pink to white. She would cease whatever she was doing at the time, pause and analyze it thoroughly. Then, she would breeze forward, as if she had never stopped at all. It was just her way. It always had been, ever since the tender age of five when Brooke and Haley had initially bonded over being the cutest girls in their kindergarten class. The blonde had a hard time adjusting now, when Brooke seemed so different. She was subdued in a way that she had never seen from the perky brunette, and it _scared_ her.

Internally, she shook herself, knowing that she was spacing and they were all waiting for a response from her.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"We asked what you think of Nathan, Hales," Becky, the most gutsy of the girls, pressed on. Glaring at the use of her nickname by people who most certainly weren't worthy of it in her eyes, she opened her mouth to respond when the boy himself seemed to materialize out of nowhere. She was beginning to wonder how the hell he did that.

"What _do_ you think of Nathan, Hales?" he teased, cerulean blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Glancing from the corner of her eyes, she could've sworn she saw drool forming at the edge of a girl's mouth. Swallowing her disgust was difficult. Although he did look pretty drool-worthy today, his navy blue shirt unbuttoned, white beater in full view, displaying his abs deliciously. His dark jeans hung low on his hips, the band of his boxers peaking out enticingly.

"Excuse us," he smiled charmingly at the other girls, winking at the one who had been plotting to seduce him as if he'd known all along. His hand was laced loosely with hers now, tugging her after him. Haley looked down at their joined fingers in disbelief. How was it even possible for hands to fit together that perfectly? And why was he touching her again? Waiting for her inner bitch to kick in and muster up some indignation was taking longer than usual. It was way too early to deal with people.

With each step they took, Haley could feel the eyes boring into her back. She could almost sense the rumors starting; feel them build around them as they walked casually through the hallway. It was like an out of body experience, watching herself walk down the school's main corridor with it's newest It Boy. In fact, it wasn't until she found herself shoved unceremoniously into a janitor's closet that she finally began to see through her own eyes again, hearing the scandalized gasps from the outside world.

"I am **_so_** not making out with you," she protested feebly, unable to see him, but knowing that Nathan Scott was somewhere very very close to her at the moment. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with her own, and raising the temperature in the confined space. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, as she saw him begin to move closer. His fingers latched through her belt loops, brushing lightly over her thighs, as his handsome face leaned down. Most definitely invading her personal space, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Haley could feel his breath against the sensitive skin of her lips, catching a whiff of his scent, knowing full well that she'd recognize it anywhere from now on. Her honey eyes drifted slowly downward, her pale pink lips parting, betraying her mind's wishes. She waited for him. He never came.

Her eyes flew open to meet his.

"Aww, you won't? But Haaaaaley Bop, I thought you liked me," he whined. His full lips pouted, but his eyes laughed.

"Why ever would you think that?" she smiled coyly. Mentally smacking herself in the forehead, she wondered what the hell she was doing. She had a boyfriend named Chris, and she was in a janitor's closet flirting with a guy named Nathan. A really hot guy named Nathan, who smelled really good, who _looked_ really good….

Who still hadn't removed his hands from her waist.

"That's what all the cool kids are saying," he nodded solemnly, his lips quirking up into an amused grin. It was different than his cocky smirk, but just as irresistible. "So I was wondering if you were going to slip a note into my locker. You know, 'Do You Like Me?', check yes or no. But you didn't, so I was worried I'd have to get my friend to ask his friend to ask his cousin to ask his mom to ask her best friend to ask her daughter to ask her best friend to ask her sister to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend."

"You're an asshole," she chuckled. "And for the record, I'll tell her to tell her sister to tell her friend to tell her friend to tell her mom to tell her cousin that I already have a boyfriend."

"I think you left a few people out. You're really hurting their feelings, Beautiful."

"I'm sure they'll get over it. Now, is there a reason you're wasting my time here, or did you just want to stir up some rumors?"

"Like they aren't already talking about me," he said cockily, and she bit her tongue in mild annoyance. There was no retort. She knew it was true.

"You really shouldn't go around holding girls' hands. It looks like you're into them, and decreases your market value. You wouldn't want that, now would you, Mr. Varsity?"

"Young grasshopper, so much to learn. You really think that's a turn off? Girls always chase after things they can't have," he leaned back, holding his arms behind his head. His biceps bulged slightly at the movement, and she fought to tear her eyes away from them. She had no idea how she was so intrigued by someone she found so irritating.

"You're ridiculous. Girls do not want guys just because they can't have them," she protested, but then thought about it. There was a reason why girls hated The Elite as much as they loved them. Brooke took special pride in it when her boys dumped their girlfriends just for a chance with her. She was a firm believer in fidelity, but hell, she wasn't the cheater.

_Or, at least, she used to_' Haley thought with a small frown creasing her forehead.

He just smirked at her in response, and her hand reached for the doorknob.

"I think we've been in here long enough for people to talk about you impregnating me, us eloping and moving to Kentucky. Are we done here?" she spat irritably.

"Well, we could make it true," his eyes challenged her, and she felt stuck. She knew that no matter what her reaction was, his eyes would take on that glow she could never write off as either triumph or amusement. Maybe it was both for a guy like Nathan Scott.

"In your dreams," she rolled her eyes. It was her bit that never failed.

"Well, of course," he laughed, and she could feel a slight blush prickling at the back of her neck. She found herself thankful for the darkness of the closet. "Hales, you don't want to know what you do in my dreams."

"Perv," she scoffed, feeling the brush spread. "So, did you just come here to sexually harass me?"

"Of course not. Not _just_ to 'sexually harass' you, but I can't say that wasn't an added bonus," he smirked at her, tossing off a seductive wink. Then his demeanor changed completely, his strong resting on his hand, his elbows propped on his knees. "How's Brooke doing?"

"Wha—why?" she didn't know what question to spit out first.

"Well, when I saw her two days ago, she was drugged up. Forgive me for being concerned over a girl I had to carry around because she was incapable of walking by herself," he snorted.

"You really care about what happened to Brooke?" Haley asked incredulously. Though she couldn't see him clearly, she could sense another shift in him. She knew that his eyes would be darkening, a near navy color emerging, and she could feel anger crackle off him.

"Of course I care! My God, Haley, what do you think I am?" he stared at her, outraged, for only a moment, before turning on his heel and exiting. The door slammed behind him, leaving her alone, with only the darkness and her guilt. It didn't last long though, the door flying open, revealing the group of cheerleaders she had spoken to earlier that morning.

"See!" one cheered, a relieved smile on her face. "She's not naked! I still have a chance!"

Letting out a noise of disgust, it was Haley's turn to slam the door.

* * *

Second period. One of the only classes through the day where she was with both Brooke and Peyton. Apparently it was in this class that Nathan Scott had landed, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. The grumpy oldbag ladythey called a teacher had long separated the trio, citing that they were too talkative and they disturbed the class when they were together. Other students were free to sit where they pleased. Today, Haley plopped into her usual seat, glaring warningly at anyone who tried to sit in the surrounding ones. Peyton laughed at her from across the room, tossing her head back and sending her gold curls flying. Brooke seemed absent, staring out into space.

The air in the room seemed to still somewhat, and Haley dreaded turning towards the front of the door. She knew exactly who would be standing there, and hated the cliché effect he seemed to have on everyone around. She hated it even more when it affected her the same way. Lately, they seemed to have struck a tentative friendship, where she had started to relax just a little bit around him. Her guard didn't instantly fly up anymore, and even chanced a smile in his direction every once in a while. After what she'd implied this afternoon though, she knew their truce-ish sort of thing was all shot to hell.

She swiveled slowly, waiting for the Hallelujah chorus and a beam of light to descend upon the figure of Nathan Scott. Uncharacteristically mildly, she glanced up at him. He nodded in her direction before continuing past her. Frowning slightly, she walked as he exchanged those ridiculous super-macho handshakes with random members of the basketball team, smirked at Marc Lansquenet and halted before the center seat in the very back row. When Haley, Brooke and Peyton had been separated, they'd been moved as far as possible, their chairs forming a triangle. Haley sat in the very front, to the right, directly in front of the door. It amused her, on certain days, to see how many freshmen she could intimidate by glaring at as they peeked in through the glass of the door. Peyton Sawyer had been relegated to the other corner. Each day, she would sit sideways, her back against the wall. Brooke could never sit like that, saying it made her feel 'boxed in', but Peyton found it comforting. From there, she could see all that was going on in the room, completely aware that nothing could happen without her seeing it, and it made for a reliable gossip source. Brooke, the remaining point of the triangle, sat smack in the center of the room, back row. She was surrounded by her cheerleading groupies, and was usually the life of the class. Still, they didn't compare to her best friends, and so they had devised many secret ways of conversing.

It was at this desk, this third point, where Nathan Scott had stopped. Brooke's head shot up, her bright green eyes meeting his blue ones, a defiant, wary glare upon her face. It couldn't help but puzzle Haley. When had Brooke ever been less than light and airy, especially with a hot guy? Words were exchanged between the two brunettes, and she couldn't make out a single one of them. His broad back was turned to her, so all she had to go on was the ever shifting expression on her best friend's pretty face. After what seemed like a light-year but was, in fact, two minutes, a soft smile graced Brooke's face, and he dropped into the seat beside her, leaving Bevin scrambling for a new place to sit. Not that she minded or anything.

* * *

Nathan Scott was not a touchy-feely person. From the stories already being tossed around in various locker rooms and girls' bathroom, he was most certainly doing a lot of _touching_, but that's not what irked Haley James. Aside from the brief handshakes he'd exchanged, too distinctively masculine to be considered "touchy", she had not once seen him make contact with another. It called to mind the incident in the closet this morning. So had been slipping into that hazy state, lust-induced and oh so much fun, and he hadn't touched anything but her belt loops. It was just bizarre. Every other "playboy" that had risen and fallen at Tree Hill High had been notoriously gropey, but Nathan kept to himself.

This may be why it was so off-setting to her when her eyes, upon scanning the scene at Tric, found him with his arm casually looping the shoulders of Brooke Davis. It was the second time that day that the pairing had caused her to exchange bewildered glances with Peyton, but the curly blonde was no where near as hung up on the issue as Haley was. She was beginning to wonder why the hell she cared. And the possible reasons were starting to scare her.

"Hey Hales!" Peyton buzzed excitedly, calling her friend's attention back. Her large hazel eyes shimmered with excitement, and she could lose herself in the emotion for just a little bit. She could be vicariously thrilled, through Peyton. Anything to save her from the angst she'd been drowning in lately.

"What's up?"

"I totally forgot, but tonight is House of Freaks!" she cheered, and only Haley, out of all the eavesdroppers around, knew what that really meant to Peyton. A long, long time ago, her friend had gained a certain attachment to music. In fact, the only person she knew with one just as strong was herself, and she really believed it helped tie the two of them together when everything else was completely crazy. They'd done impromptu road trips all over the place to see Peyton's newest obsession. Brooke loathed most of the music, but not as much as she loved Peyton, so all three would be in for the ride.

"Do we know who's playing?" Haley inquired curiously, glancing about the club for a hint as to the mystery band.

"No idea," Peyton shrugged, downing another shot. Haley could just pray that her friend only got mildly wasted, because she was in no mood to deal with her when she was drunk.

She was about to comment on exactly that when the petite form of Karen Roe made herself known on the stage. Haley tried to keep the admiration in her eyes at a minimum, but there had always been something about the woman that she had appreciated. She was quiet and well-mannered, but she could really draw attention. That was the only way to explain how an entire room of teenagers had just silenced.

"Tonight, we have a **very **special performer. His star's on the rise now, but once upon a time, he was just a local boy. Please welcome to the stage, Tree Hill's very own… CHRIS KELLER!"

Haley's body froze, her cup half-way to her lips as she stared, disbelieving, up at the petite woman who had just spoken. Brooke's eyes met Haley for one of the only times that night, the sparkle draining out of the bright green to be replaced with undeniable concern. Peyton's reaction was far less subtle, violently spitting her drink out, spraying the surrounding crowd with her surprise. All three knew what this meant, and it was nothing good.

So concerned were they that they barely noticed him take to the stage. He looked the same as always, Haley noted wistfully. Still a little too skinny, with deep eyes and hair that her friends just couldn't get enough of mocking. The arrogant air about him was self-satisfied as always, but there was something different about him too. Whenever she'd seen him play before, he'd hammed it up for the crowds, and she felt like just another face. This time, hers was the first face he'd seeked.

"Helloooo Tree Hill!" he trilled into the mic, and the crowd went crazy. Peyton snorted, Brooke arched an eyebrow, Haley made no motion at all. "It's been a while since I've last been here."

"I'll say," Peyton muttered irritably. The blondes were too far away to read Brooke's lips, but they were moving at hyper-speed, and her eyes flashed angrily. They most certainly all got the message.

"But I've always had a soft-spot for here. That's why I can guarantee that I'll always come back. Because someone here means more to me than anyone," he let his eyes linger on Haley.

"You do a hell of a job of showing it!" a voice called out _loudly_, and the crowd twittered, unaware of the meaning behind the words. Judging by her voice, they couldn't tell if Brooke was enraged or intoxicated. Maybe a teeny bit of both.

"This song is for you, baby," Chris continued on, as if he had never been interrupted. His pale eyes remained locked on Haley's soft ones.

_I take a walk down to the shore_

_and I wonder how much longer I'll sustain these steps_

_It's been a month since I've been gone_

_And its been a month too long since_

_You have graced me with your presence_

_I smell your scent on every single shirt I wear_

_I found pieces of your hair stuck to my suit case_

_I try to call but the reception here is weak_

_And it will still be three more weeks until I get home_

_I hope your waiting by the door when I get home_

_I don't want anyone to see me here alone_

_It's not enough to say I think about you now_

_But that was all I had, but that was all I had_

_But that was all I had._

_I walk the boards alone tonight_

_And try to fill this empty space inside my chest_

_I take Atlantic home tonight_

_And every neon light in sight spells out your name_

_And every morning that I wake_

_I make a point to check the date, in case_

_I slept an extra day._

_I cross as many numbers out_

_But every time I count them_

_There are so much more_

_I hope your waiting by the door when I get home_

_I don't want anyone to see me here alone_

_It's not enough to say I think about you now_

_But that was all I had, but that was all…_

_I hope your waiting by the door when I get home_

_I don't want anyone to see me here alone_

_It's not enough to say I think about you now_

_But that was all I had, but that was all I had _

The audience went **insane**, girls cooing over how _sweet_ he was, how _lucky_ his girlfriend must be. Haley found herself frozen to the same spot she had been in, now watching the expressions fly over Peyton's face.

"Baby". Nobody that knew Haley James would ever call her 'baby' or 'honey' or 'sweetie'. If there was one thing she loathed, it was condescension. Peyton knew it, and Brooke knew it too, as did every boy who'd ever been kneed in the groin for trying them out, along with a corny pick-up line or two. Still, the song had been so romantic that it melted even a part of her, and she turned to her best friend, defeat drawn upon her features.

Haley's eyes flitted across the room for a signal from Brooke, anything to indicate what she was thinking. They may have been in bizarro land lately, but Brooke was still a part of her. The skinny brunette merely shrugged, and Haley was surprised when her eyes came in contact with a pair of bright blue ones that shook her to her core. Nathan Scott stared back at her, shamelessly, his arm still resting nonchalantly around her friend. There was something familiar in his eyes, a challenge of some sort. God, she would live to be a thousand and never understand the boy next door, and so she settled for glaring defiantly and refocusing her attention. Peyton nodded in understanding, toasting her with a plastic cup and waving her away, only minor disappointment in her eyes.

"Go ahead," she sighed. "Even I'd fuck him after that."

* * *

_And here is where I'm going to shamelessly plug myself. I have a brandy new story called **Hard to Find**, and it's very very very different from this one. But I'll love you forever if you review it anyway. _

_Thanks for reading guys. Please review and let me know what you thought._

_x Sam_


	6. Chapter 6

**Winds of Change**

_Six_

"For God's sake Haley, what's with all the tension here?"

"Seriously Haley Bop! You're probably the only one here that actually _did_ get laid last night. What's with all the frustration on your end?"

"I'm sorry, did _Brooke Davis_ just tell us that she spent the night alone?"

"Huh. That's what I got out of it. Which is interesting, because I could've sworn she spent the night on the arm of THHS's new man candy? Any comments from the camp?"

"Okay, you know who's really not funny? YOU TWO. Are you implying that I'm easy, bestest friends?"

"Um, yes," they replied in unison, barely missing a beat, then erupting into giggles.

"You know, this is why I like it when Haley randomly changes hair colors. You blondes gang up on me!" Brooke pouted, a significant whine in her voice. "Speaking of Haley and skankiness, why the hell do you get a say in this?"

One of the most interesting parts of Brooke Davis was her voice. It was naturally husky, a fact which had escaped none of the boys in school or _any_ parts of their anatomy. Furthermore, it was finely nuanced. She could sound angry, but there would always be hints of other emotions in there. Years of experience had taught Haley and Peyton to read these tiny messages as if they were a language all their own. So while anyone else would be defensive and almost frightened, Haley let out a laugh.

"Hey, hey, hey. Why am I being picked on?"

"Because you totally hopped into bed last night with a boy you swore you wouldn't!"

"Okay, one- no, I didn't. Two, when the hell did I swear that?"

"When I was drugged up and Nathan had to carry me into your room! I totally enjoyed that, by the way. Very good choice, girls," Brooke's laughter radiated through the airwaves. The blondes weren't sure that they were happy at how easily she seemed to be able to discuss the incident. More than that, though, Haley was just glad to have her friend back. It had taken a few days, but she finally seemed more like the Brooke she'd always known. She'd smirk for no reason, laugh out of nowhere, discuss the most serious subjects with the lightest of hearts. That was Brooke Davis, and it was good to have her back.

"So are we going to do five minutes on this Nathan Scott chap or what?" Peyton asked, and there was silence on the line for a good 15 seconds. Haley had pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it incredulously, and she was almost sure Brooke had done the same. _Chap_?

"British pool boy?" she asked finally, and Peyton laughed guiltily.

"He must be doing something right. Stepmommy Dearest hasn't gotten rid of him yet."

"Oh, gag. Mama Sawyer's fishing from that side of the pond now?" Brooke asked flippantly, in the way only she could. Peyton's grumbling spoke for all.

"And what about Papa Peyton? Still hasn't caught on yet?" Haley asked, guilt lacing her voice. It was well known among the West End that Lawrence Sawyer was _deeply_ in love with Elizabeth, and had been since high school. She hadn't looked his way until he was eighteen years old and come in contact with the Sawyer family fortune and realized that there _could_ be a cushy house on the other side of town in the deal for her. Unfortunately for Ellie Harp, he had moved onto his Anna, and they gave birth to the beautiful Peyton. A car accident had torn the family apart years ago, leaving Ellie with her golden opportunity. Blinded as Larry was, he accepted her with open arms. The hits just kept on coming for Ellie though, because regardless of the wealth, luxury and respect the marriage had provided her, it dropped her with an obstacle just as formidable—Peyton.

"Of course not, the moronic asshole," Peyton spat, and neither girl bothered to remind her that she really didn't think of her father that way. While some people needed consolation, all Peyton ever really needed was someone to just _listen_. Anna had done that for her, but Anna was gone now, and she barely even recognized her father anymore. The Elite was her family now. "But I really don't want to talk about him, as he's nowhere near attractive enough to be the topic of this conversation."

"Really? He's always been on my D.I.L.F. list," Brooke said, bemused, and Peyton feigned gagging noises from the other end of the phone. Haley laughed uproariously.

"What about Dan Scott? I hear our new B.M.O.C. got more than basketball skills from daddy. Have we seen him yet?"

"I have! Definitely a D.I.L.F. But he's kinda creepy too. I put him on Haley's list," Brooke said, and Haley stared at her phone yet again.

"What the hell?" she sputtered.

"Oh, come on, Hales. You're clearly a masochist," Brooke said, in the same _That's so obvious!_ tone she would use to explain to Bevin that there was no thirteen o'clock. Peyton voiced her agreement.

"You have _got_ to be shitting me."

"You know, I never really understood that expression," Peyton mused, and briefly Haley wondered if she'd slipped into Ellie's infamous pot stash.

"But assuming that shitting is code for kidding, no, we are not _shitting_ you. I mean, Hales, you're dating Chris Keller, asshole extraordinaire."

"So? Sucky taste in guys does not mean I also have a taste for whips and chains!" Haley protested.

"I was actually referring to the emotional masochism of it all," Peyton chimed in, and there was no response from Brooke's end. Slowly, she could hear it growing louder and louder, and finally the snort gave her away. The phone dropped onto her carpeting as she rolled around beside it, laughing so hard tears poured from her eyes. Finally, a choking sound was heard, and it was clear that the brunette was with them once again.

"Sorry Hales," she gasped out. "But that was a hell of a visual."

Even she had to chuckle at that one.

"So tell us, H. James! What happened with you and Poser Boy last night?" Brooke ploughed on.

"We talked…" she began hesitantly.

"Does this get sexual?" Peyton inquired, dropping the timber in her voice and causing Brooke to giggle.

"Is that the voice that landed Jagelski the other night, P. Sawyer? Because I swear, that even turned me on a little!" Brooke laughed.

"No, _my_ story does not get sexual. There is some making out, and some promising to call him later so we can work these things out. I suppose I can call him while you two succumb to your lesbian tendencies," Haley grumbled irritably, shielding her eyes from the sun as she made her way across her massive backyard, cordless phone rooted firmly to her ear.

"Hum… did you sense the hostility there, P. Sawyer?"

"I most certainly did. I'm thinking our little Haley Bop isn't looking forward to this call too much."

"I don't know why I'm _ever_ on the phone with you two when I could just hang up. I guess you're right. I am a masochist."

"Hah! Told ya!" Peyton cheered triumphantly.

"No, _I_ told her!" Brooke protested childishly.

"Let's just say that we both told her. I mean, we've discussed it enough to know that we both agree," Peyton pacified.

"What do you mean 'We've discussed it enough'? We've spoken about it for like ten minutes," Haley said, irritated by the flippancy of her friends as she dipped her foot into the pool.

"No, _we've_ spoken about it for like ten minutes. Fauxdilocks and I have spoken about it quite a bit," Brooke elaborated, and Haley shrugged.

"Whatever, I'm done talking about me."

"You _are_?" Brooke gasped, and Haley couldn't actually read if she was teasing.

"Well, that's a first," Peyton sounded amused, and Haley determined it was teasing. It was always more obvious with Peyton.

"Hardy har har," Haley sneered. Slowly, a noise penetrated her ears, shattering the silence she had found by the sanctuary of her pool. It seemed that Brooke's ears were just as keen as hers, which made sense historically, because she let out a squeal.

"Is that a basketball?" her tone was excited, genuine Brooke Penelope Davis excitement. She could fake it with the best of them, but her anticipation was clear through the phone lines now.

"I believe it is," Haley answered sardonically, observing Nathan Scott sink a shot flawlessly, twenty feet from his basket.

"Is that basketball attached to someone who radiates arrogance but has the body to back it up, unlike somebody's long term boyfriend?" Brooke inquired, unable to resist slipping a dig in there.

"Do you know a single other person on Haley's block who could shoot a basketball without having a seizure?" Peyton asked doubtfully. It was true. Haley's neighborhood was a strictly Old Money block. Unfortunately for her, this meant it was occupied by the old geezers the money was attached to. The James Manor was an inherited property, passed down from generation to generation. Haley would actually be kind of thrilled when the time came for it to be solely hers. She never felt boxed in by its sweeping elegance. She adored everything, from the tall pillars to the marble floors to the exquisite murals lining the entrance rooms. She loved the thought that her great-grandmother had lived her once, and her mother before her. A history buff, as Brooke and Peyton teased, like her was in heaven surrounded by so much of it. Sometimes she wondered how she could love a place so much for the way it remained perfect and unchanging, and hate it for the same exact reason.

"Haley? Are you going to answer us, or are you staring at him in that heroine of a Harlequin romance novel way?" Peyton teased, and Haley gasped.

"By the way, don't deny you read those. I totally found your stash," Brooke said, and Haley could see her pointing her finger at her in her mind's eye.

"You guys are _not_ invited over anymore. I'm serious; I don't even know why I hang out with you guys. I really don't need friends, you're both annoying as hell," Haley railed, kicking aimlessly at the water. Sitting down gently, her slightly muscled calves were completely submerged in the sparkling blue water.

"You should go talk to him, Haley," Peyton advised sagely, and Brooke voiced her agreement.

"He's as cool as he is hot!" she cheered enthusiastically.

"Why the hell are you suddenly his greatest champion, Brooke?" Haley turned the tables, her toe flicking the water angrily.

"It is a little weird, Brookie. Normally you have at least ten flaws for every person," said Peyton hesitantly.

"Especially guys," Haley noted.

"God, how many did you pick out for Lucas Roe?" Peyton groaned, and Haley winced at the memory. That had been a long day for them all; made even longer by Brooke's insistence of rattling off every bad thing she could think of blonde basketball star. Most of them had been completely trivial, including his shirts are frequently wrinkled, they _do_ still make combs, you know, and his fingernails had dirt under them one day. Because they really cared.

"So, what's the deal Brooke? Is he really just that much of a god in bed?" Peyton teased, waiting for the recommendation she was sure would come.

"Probably, but I have no first hand experience," she insisted, and Haley felt an unfamiliar wave of relief wash over here. "Now I really wish you'd just let it go. What, am I not allowed to have friends?"

"Of course not! You have us!"

"I just don't understand why he's the only person who won't speak a word against," Haley said, flipping her long blonde locks over her shoulder.

"Well, maybe I've decided to stop looking for cracks in the porcelain," muttered Brooke. It was funny to think about, the brash and sexy Brooke Davis having an old-fashioned family. While she merely rolled her bright green eyes at her mother, who shared the same ones, Grandmother Davis was someone she deeply respected. Haley knew it had been that woman, a lady in every sense of the words, who had first used that expression describing her beloved granddaughter. As much as she would like to break the descending silence, interrupted only by the steady bouncing of a ball from many feet over, she couldn't find words.

* * *

Haley James hates to be unsure. She's thin and beautiful, "hot" by anyone's standards, has more money than she could ever spend, and is smart as a whip. It's not a familiar feeling, but it creeps up, expectedly at times. She loathes the insecurities that prick at her hidden heart every once in a while. She hates the way it makes her feel. And right now, she hates herself for being on her back, beneath the writhing form of Chris Keller.

She's astounded, and more than a little bit confused, at how they got like this. Well, of course she knows _how_. He smiles _that_ smile, gets _that_ glint in his eyes, and uses _that_ voice, and suddenly her shirt is halfway across the room. It's the same voice that's had girls all over the country swooning during his tour, and the effect is the same on Haley, no matter how large the ice within her has grown.

And does she ever hate that.

Because the last time she checked, she was scheduled to have lunch with Peyton today. She was supposed to go shopping for lingerie she'd never wear with Brooke, then for new records with her curly blonde best friend, and then they would all get together and fight over what to do later that night. Chris was supposed to come over to talk, but they just don't seem to do that anymore. They haven't in a long time.

It's the middle of the afternoon. She's starving, and she really wishes she hadn't broken those lunch plans. Briefly, she wonders if Brooke will stop in the Food Court with her to grab a bite to eat. There's a new indie movie out on DVD that she loved when she saw the first time. Haley really wants to stop and get that too. And it's at this point when she realizes that something has most definitely changed. The magic of "Haley and Chris" was that whenever Haley was with Chris, he was all she could think about. Now, her mind isn't even in the neighborhood of Chris, and on the one occasion when Chris is in the neighborhood. She doesn't want this, not now. She doesn't want bruises on her wrists or on her heart, and she knows that by the time he leaves again, she'll have them both. She may already have them, come to think of it, as she shifts uncomfortably under his weight. He isn't particularly heavy, never has been. It's almost like when Brooke or Peyton tackle her, pinning her to the mattress, couch, floor, wall… whatever's closest when their weird moods strike. Only that doesn't accompany molestation (unless they're _really_ wasted, but that's another story).

Then there it is, like a beckon of hope, rising through her window. The phoenix song is what she compares it to in her mind, but she feels empty now. Completely and entirely numb, and not in the way she likes it. She feels nothing, she knows nothing, she wants nothing except for this to stop. She couldn't express her thoughts because she can't get inside her own head, and there's nothing she longs for more. And before she even thinks of it, she hears the irritatingly familiar sound, but this time, she feels like it's saved her.

_Bounce. Bounce. Shuffle. Bounce. _

It's the familiar sounds of a basketball, of top-of-the-line sneakers being slowly worn away by blacktop. It's simple enough, heard on every playground, every day. But on Haley's block, there is no playing—not of the fun variety, anyway. There are plenty of games, but the score is imaginably high, and it pains her to know that this is the life she is meant for. The bouncing represents something simpler, something easier, even though she's secretly tried and knows it's one skill she'll never manage. This time, though, it's accompanied by laughter. It's a laugh she knows all too well, and could identify a mile away. It's the genuine laughter of Brooke Davis.

And she kind of hates that too.

It's the perfect opportunity though, and before she even realizes what she's doing, her perfectly manicured fingers are pushing against the scrawny chest of Chris Keller, and she can finally breathe again. Quickly, Haley made her way to the window, taking in the scene. Brooke Davis, head cheerleader and best friend, was perched on her garden wall, clearly engrossed in a conversation, but her bright green eyes immediately found Haley's light brown ones, and an easy smile swept over her features. Haley smiled back instinctively. Regardless of whatever she felt inside, Brooke could always coax a smile.

"Haley?" Chris called from the bed, irritation evident as well as confusion.

"Oh, yeah, hey Chris," she hedged, a faint blush spreading. How much of an idiot was she being? _Very much_, she answered herself. Shit, she was still topless! Had Brooke noticed from below? She chanced a glance back out her window. Brooke's Cheshire grin was in full view, letting her know that she was very much exposed. Shit!

Whirling indignantly, she was cut short when something caught her eye. She knew that she had noticed him before, because she always did. Nathan Scott had proved to be a looming presence in her life since he moved in next door, a blip on her radar that refused to pass. But now as he stood at least two stories below her, his eyes glimmered, still the most enchanting color she'd ever come across. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar, because he was always so controlled, but she recognized it immediately.

_Lust_.

And for some reason, this turned her on more than anything Chris had done all day.

* * *

_Humm.. this was a fairly quick update, by my standards lately lol. Thanks for all the reviews, you guys are amazing. And Ange, thank you for subjecting yourself to a story I **know** you wouldn't read otherwise. Quick update is my showing myappreciate lol. And thankies, as always, to Maggie, for listening to my random ramblings, and even for some of the thoughts in this chappie lol. _

_So.. why don't you guys all review and see how fast you can crank a new chapter out of me? That'd be fun.. _

_x Sam_


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter is for Ange, who pretty much told me to get a move on it. Sorry about the lack of naley, but this story isn't just about the couple. Everybody has an impact, and this chapter is crucial.

**Winds of Change**

_Seven_

Vaguely, she wondered how it was possible to have everything under the sun, and the money to buy even more, and still feel like something's missing.

She was brilliant, everyone knew it. She'd maintained a flawless 4.0, earned an A+ in each subject from kindergarten forward. She knew enough to impress even the most avid intellectuals North Carolina society had to offer, and further proved her genius by knowing to down play it. She possessed an infamous charm, seemingly passed on from her grandmother to her mother, and becoming her own birthright. She could be witty and pleasant…

And she could turn it off just as quickly. Her father was a shrewd business man, and she could be just as ruthless. While most of her friends possessed an inner softness, making them weak and sometimes crumbled, a strip of steel ran within her. She could cut with a glare, or kill in conversation, without even batting an eyelash at it. It was just another day in her life. It was just another reason not to cross her.

To say she was pretty was an understatement. It was one of those unwritten things that everyone seems to know. She wasn't pretty or hot, she was beautiful in a way that words tended to escape. Her skin was flawless, a light tan taking over at times. Her long blonde hair was silky, hanging down her back in long loose curls. Her eyes, a light brown, could seem warm and welcoming or smoky and mysterious, all depending on her mood. While short, she was thin and toned, and her presence made her seem much larger than her meager height.

It was fairly safe to say that Haley James was on the road to perfection.

So one might wonder why she still wasn't happy.

Haley herself was pondering this exact topic as she found herself alone in bed. Her state-of-the-art alarm clock displayed the time as 3:45, and she groaned. The glaring red numbers reinforced the point that she had been laying there, restless, for five hours. It was a Saturday night, and she knew that she had probably reached a whole new level of pathetic, as she heard the familiar stumbling she had been waiting for.

It definitely wasn't the first time this week that Chris Keller had slid into bed behind her. It was the reason why she had been staying home, staying up—to wait for him. It was the reason why she had turned down all requests for her to party tonight, despite the groveling done by Brooke and Peyton. But it was nearly four o'clock in the morning, and a sleep-deprived Haley was a grumpy Haley.

"Hey baby," he whispered, his voice low and gravelly in her ear. Instead of her heart flip-flopping within her chest, swirls of lust tingling at the sound as they had always done, she felt nothing but irritation. It was way too late, or too early technically, for the scent of alcohol to be permeating her senses. He reeked of booze and smoke and a horrendously flowery perfume. Wrinkling her pert nose in distaste, she knew that he hadn't come from Tric, the area's hottest spot, because Karen Roe ran a tight ship. This meant that her long-term boyfriend had crawled out from some seedy bar and into her bed, and who knows where he had stopped in between?

"Get out," she said coldly, surprising even herself. It was another one of those unwritten rules that Haley didn't stand up for herself. She would get in anyone's face, but generally only when provoked. When it came to people she cared about, she let others sail her ship. It explained why she accepted the "Happy Sweet Sixteen!" card from her father this past summer, on the same day as she accepted her driver's license in celebration of her 17th birthday. The same logic followed why she kept letting Chris in, into her head and her heart and her bed. Tonight though, she felt like something was different. She wasn't going to be timid, polite, well-manner, crisp Haley. She was going to be Haley, the outrageous bitch, and she didn't really care what anyone had to say about it.

"What?" he sputtered, her words shocking him as they did her. But she didn't withdraw them, leaving them to hang uncomfortably in the darkness of her massive bedroom. His scrawny arm made to latch around her as she made to get up, and she ploughed forward, leaving him dazed in the middle of the king-sized bed more suited for a princess.

"I said to **get out**," she gestured wildly, her vision blurring, beginning in the corners of her eyes. Whether she was tired or tearing, she didn't really care.

"I've come over every other night this week. Why's this different?" confusion evident in both voice and eyes was displayed brilliantly as Chris peered beseechingly up at her. Instead of melting her, she felt something within her harden, and she glared down at him. Daddy would be proud.

"It's different because _I'm_ different. It just occurred to me that there's no reason why _I_ have to put my life on hold for someone who doesn't care about me at all."

"I care about you Haley!" he protested, and she wondered how many other girls had ever been fed that line. Had he said it to the girl whose perfume he still smelt of? Had he used it to coax her into bed, or to make her feel less dirty afterwards? Because right now, Haley James, who had always been a few steps sort of full-on O.C.D., as Brooke liked to tease, felt as if a thousand showers couldn't wash him from her skin.

"Really? Because, you know, that's what I've been trying to tell myself. But then I check out my phone records for the last month, and not a single call is from you. You don't say anything for weeks at a time, and then you show up just like everything's fine!"

"I don't get what's going on with you…" he said slowly. Clearly the alcohol and God knows what else were taking their toll on him.

"I'm just… tired of hearing the same _stupid_ lines. Why am I so stupid?" she asked, a wry self-deprecating smile curling her lips as she plopped onto the far end of the bed. "You… you treat me like I'm this," she said, hysteria edging its way into her voice as she fingered the down-comforter. "I keep you warm, but don't ask you where you've been."

"Haley—"

"Don't! You _always_ do this! And you know what, I want to stand here and scream like a jealous harpy and demand where the hell you've been, but you know what? I don't want to know! It hurts too much! So just do me a favor, and get the hell out."

"Why don't you call me when you're not so P.M.S.?" he asked scathingly as he stumbled towards the door.

"I don't have P.M.S., I just really don't like you," she hissed, knowing Brooke and Peyton would be proud.

Chris Keller didn't respond though, the heavy wood of her bedroom door swinging shut with an irritated thump. Haley knew she wouldn't be getting to sleep that night, and she couldn't help but wonder if he didn't hear her… or he just didn't care.

* * *

"If what you wanted was to sulk, I could've brought my records," Peyton suggested helpfully, but the sunlight glinting off her tight curls was too bright for Haley's tired eyes, and she merely groaned in response, burying her head beneath a massive pillow.

"I think the last thing any of us need are P. Sawyer Misery Mixes," Brooke chirped from the corner, unnaturally perky as always. "Those are guaranteed to make you want to shoot up and die."

"Must not be strong enough then, because I could've sworn I was blaring them at home, and the parentals are still standing," the blonde grumbled, and received sympathetic looks from her two best friends. Long ago, Peyton had lumped her father and stepmother into one—"the parentals". It was a grudging transition, made agonizingly over time, but it was just less painful than acknowledging them individually.

"Well, we all know that they each must be lacking in one or more of the five senses in order to make that couple work. Must be hearing," quipped Brooke, and Peyton half-smiled in her direction.

"I wouldn't rule out sight either," Haley added dryly, and both laughed in appreciation.

"She speaks! Oh, speak again, bright angel," teased Brooke, drawing back old memories of Shakespearean obsessions that had passed long ago. Haley's preoccupation with the world's greatest love story had lasted an entire year, and she had a name change to show for it. She was now permanently, in the eyes of her religion, Haley Elise Juliet James. Her friends would never let her live it down.

"Fuck off, B. Davis," she whined, her exhaustion the equivalent of a level 10 hangover. Haley was so tired she could barely see straight, but her thoughts had kept her up all night.

"We should probably get back to the task at hand," Peyton pacified, noting Brooke's hackles rise.

"Which would be what?"

"Dissecting Haley's life, so that we can all go back to sleep," she swiped irritably at the corners of her burning, tired eyes as she look at the clock. 8:12. If a morning person had ever lived, she was most certainly not named Peyton Sawyer.

On the other hand, there was Brooke Davis—perky at all hours, and in all states. "Previously on The Life of Haley James, our heroine's weeks of teen angst bullshit seemed to be drawing to a close as her long-lost wannabe rock star boyfriend came back to town. However, instead of re-consummating the relationship, sparks flew between her and a sexy newcomer, while she was topless. It was a short-exchange, but lusty nonetheless. Now, Haley begins to regain her pride as she tosses asshole boyfriend to the curb, finally heeding the advice of her beautiful and wise best friends," she continued in her best announcer voice. Lately, things between Haley and Brooke had been strained. A deep weight seemed to have been placed upon the relationship, pushing lightly at its seams as if to test just how much it could take. But knowing that the brunette had been slightly off-kilter since The Party Incident, Haley just brushed it off. There were many more important issues to handle, in her mind.

"Well thank you for that synopsis," she spat irritably.

"WHAT? What the hell? When was Haley topless in front of Nathan? He _is_ the sexy newcomer right? Because I'm fairly certain that there's currently nobody around sexier than Nathan," Peyton explained, the most delicate of blushes painting her porcelain cheeks as she realized how she'd babbled on.

"Nathan is the sexy newcomer," Brooke nodded happily.

"Haley—topless? That is _so_ not you, Hales," Peyton murmured, amusement chasing confusion across her face.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked defensively, effectively avoiding the real topic.

"Hello, Haley and Miss Modesty are like synonymous," Brooke said.

"Are you kidding? Did you not see the dental floss I passed off as a shirt on Friday?" the blonde replied incredulously, but Peyton shook her head.

"No, that's _Haley James_, Queen Bee. Haley is very modest. You'll do anything your image requires, but that doesn't mean it's you, Hales. Whereas Brookie over here can walk around town naked, and it would be both a _Brooke Davis_ and a Brooke thing to do."

"I'd try to muster up some indignance if that wasn't so true," Brooke giggled.

"Is indignance a real word?" Peyton puzzled, her forehead crinkling in the middle.

"Nope," Haley released the words with a loud POP on the p.

"And the tutor in her strikes again," Brooke teased, her dimples deepening.

"I still don't know why you quit that," Peyton mumbled.

That was a lie. They all know why Haley had quit her position as head tutor. Somewhere along the line, Haley Elise James had lost herself. For a stretch, she was a mousy brunette eager to hide in the shadows. The tutoring center provided her with just the place for that. It was a place to feel good about what you did for others, a place to feel accomplished. But Tree Hill was no place for a James to hide, especially when none but two knew what she was running from. Soon after that, she was a loud and arrogant redhead, then a brassy and bitchy blonde. The times where she gave a damn about others seemed to be long gone, as some time ago she had morphed from Tutor Girl to Queen Haley yet again, until it was just a moment in time.

Brooke flashed a message with her eyes, and Peyton looked properly chastised. She was the only one out of the three who ever saw fit to be apologetic. When Brooke made mistakes, she breezed past them. When Haley fucked up, she would glare and scream and stop, but it would never be held against her. Only Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, the heiress who most certainly didn't need forgiveness, would be one to ask for it.

"Oh, come off it, Brooke," Haley sneered, and a dark eyebrow risen in silent question was the response she got. "No need to leave it unsaid. We all know that you thought tutoring was _below me_."

"I'm sorry, was _I_ the one that quit once I decided to be popular again?" Brooke asked. She screwed up her face to look deep in thought, but the hard, angry glint in her bright green eyes that was becoming more and more familiar was present.

"You implied that I should," Haley responded, feeling anger bubble below the surface and wondering where it had come from. She was usually somewhat reserved, leaving all her emotions bottled up beneath her flawless veneer. Lately, it seemed she has just reached the end of her tether, flying off at only a moment's notice.

"Please Haley, we all knew you wouldn't last there," Brooke laid it out simply. She didn't hiss the words, the way she had when she'd caught Haley's seventh grade boyfriend playing Seven Minutes in Heaven in the closet with Theresa Miller. She didn't spit them either, the way she'd told off Bevin for making an L with her fingers before doing a move in their halftime routine for cheerleading. They weren't even drenched in malice, the tone she had used on Peyton's stepmother when it had finally all gotten to be too much for her curly blonde friend and she just couldn't watch it anymore. Instead, calm seemed to settle over her. A deadly calm that was possibly more frightening than any other "fuck you" tone she'd ever used.

"And why is that?" Haley asked, her voice quivering, but forcing the question through. She wasn't sure why she was picking a fight with Brooke, of all people. She wasn't mad at her for anything in particular. If she just wanted someone to blow off steam at, they had plenty of hired help, and any random at school would gladly take shit from her if it meant she'd consent to speak to them for a minute or two. Instead, she was fuming at Brooke Davis, one of the only people on that side of the _country_ who didn't give a damn what she or her trust fund looked like.

Haley James was a glutton for punishment.

"Guys…" Peyton started. The tone of her voice was a warning. The Mother Hen of the group thought this was getting way out of hand, but Brooke wouldn't be pacified, and Haley couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Because tutoring is about helping others, and you're a self-centered bitch. It was never about trying to get other people to do well; it was about the praise you got when _they_ succeeded. You're smart, everybody knows it, and it was just another opportunity for you to horde it over everybody. Not even that could keep you around the social misfits though, huh Hales?"

The way '_Hales_' slipped from Brooke's glossed lips caused a shiver to run down Haley's spine. The tone was familiar in a way, the shiver not just one of fear and hurt but of déjà vu. It struck her suddenly, her light brown eyes widening. She'd heard it before, but not directed towards her. Another endearment, made horrific in only the way Brooke Davis could.

_"Go ahead, tell yourself that this isn't your fault. This was an accident, this was a mistake, this was a tragedy. But we both know the truth, don't we? Everybody that's ever known her will know what really happened, and nobody will say a damn thing about it! Not even me… because I know that she wouldn't want me to. She loved you. She loved you so much she would die for you. And she did. I hope you're proud of her, mommy, it was all she ever wanted." _

The memories were still painful. Two years had passed and she could still feel the black silk rubbing against her, the friction anything but wanted. The pale upon their cheeks, the absence of sound all around them. She felt like she was back in the Davises' massive den, privy to a family meeting for God knows why, Brooke mercifully breaking the silence previously punctured only by sobs. It would be an official two years in four days.

Haley James was the world's biggest bitch, she thought with a mental smack to her forehead. The look Peyton was sending in her direction did nothing to refute it, only reinforcing it, even. The giant calendar Brooke had bought her at the beginning of the year, joking that she had been too busy even for her best friends and needed to be penciled in, faced her from behind the storming brunette, the date glaring at her. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

So deeply immersed in her self-deprecation, she barely noticed Brooke gathering her things, a whirlwind of brown and green and palest white and pink cotton with purple stripes.

"Where are you going?" she asked slowly, the fog clearing in her brain, leaving only panic. She had no idea why it was Brooke she was lashing out at, and now of all times. This was the worst time of the year. Her timing had always been for shit, but she had always remembered how hard this was for her best friend. Why she was taking her angst out on her, she had no idea.

"Nathan's," she replied scathingly. "At least he's pleasant in the mornings."

Aha. That was it, right there. Brooke's newfound… _whatever_ with the boy next door had Haley all shook up, and with no clue why. Normally it would be the brunette's idea to psychoanalyze that, but Brooke herself was hurting and lost, and she didn't have enough in her to help everybody. She couldn't help anybody, because she was still so lost herself.

"You think I'm terrible," Haley let out a shaky sigh, feeling Peyton's unwavering hazel gaze on her long after Brooke had left. It was the second time this morning someone had stormed out on her for being a bitch, and she was waiting for number three. What she got instead surprised her, a little.

"I think you're broken. I think we're all broken," the quiet words escaped the blonde, and Haley was astonished to see a few tears slide down her friend's smooth cheek. Peyton hadn't cried in years, not for anything. Dragging Peyton onto the bed with her, they hugged tightly, and she could feel the hot tears on her skin beginning to mingle with her own. She could feel Peyton's Ramones t-shirt, almost at the end of its days, soft beneath her fingers, and cried just a little bit harder, knowing that Brooke was next door being comforted (she cringed at the connotation) when she should be there with them. Her blonde friend's breath evened out somewhat, and she knew Peyton was drifting off to sleep. It was her best comfort and her greatest fear, to be left alone in the giant bedroom where the walls knew too much.

_We're all broken. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Winds of Change**

There is a little known fact:

Haley James is not independent.

At the tender age of five, the trust fund princess, the then-pride and joy of the prestigious James brood, faced her first daunting task—kindergarten. Through the earliest years of her life, there had been someone on hand, waiting on her every whim. Most of them were ridiculous, like ponies and ice cream and feather boas and trips to the zoo, but they were met eagerly. That September marked the first time that the young Miss James would be left to her own devices, without a chauffeur or maid or nanny to act as a liaison between her and the real world.

She'd walked in, scouring the crowded room to see who would be easiest to bond to. It was an uncanny quality that all around her had observed, the way she could spot weak links quick as a flash. If there was someone vulnerable in the room, she could easily prey upon them. She would, too, because she'd do anything if it kept her from being alone.

Instead, she was approached by a blonde with tight bouncing girls and a wide grin. Abandoning her idea to search for someone else unable to make friends, she glued herself to the happy young girl. It was in that moment that she and Peyton Sawyer had formed their deep, inseparable bond. They were joined at the hip before Anna Sawyer even waved goodbye to her daughter, tearfully wishing her luck on her first day of school.

As the parents (or hired help, in many cases, including Haley's) cleared out, it left a stilted feeling in the air of the classroom. The teacher looked perky and bright, caring and sweet, and exactly how someone being paid higher than any teacher in the state should look. There were many large circular tables scattered through the spacious room, and all the children were clamoring for a seat around the center one. In the midst of the bustling children stood a thin, petite girl with glossy dark hair and shining green eyes. She wore a pink miniskirt and a lime green tank top. It didn't match in the slightest, unlike the other children whose outfits had been selected for them weeks in advance, and pressed for the occasion. This was the Davis child that everyone whispered about. Everyone liked to think they knew a thing or two about the Davises, and though some whispers were truly vicious, no one could deny the social power they wielded. Little Brooke, poor little rich girl, neglected by those who were supposed to love her, and adored by everyone else. The Davis girls were a force of nature, and that was evident now, for though she stuck out like a sore thumb, everyone rushed to be near her.

For her part, the young brunette looked disinterested. She smiled warmly at all those who spoke, but her attention was a million miles away, and her green eyes were vacant. They locked upon the two who hadn't rushed over to her. Two little blondes sat, hunched closely together, three tables distance between them and the crowd. Brooke was there in a flash, plopping herself beside Haley James and Peyton Sawyer, and tossing a warning look to all those who tried to follow after her. Throughout the day, looks were constantly cast in the direction of the threesome, but they paid them no mind, getting to know each other instead. As their parents began to leak in again, signaling their freedom for the rest of the day, she linked her arms tightly with her two new friends.

This was the beginning of Tree Hill's Elites, and yet it seemed to represent something a little more important in Haley's life.

It was assurance that she'd never have to be alone.

It occurs to her now that maybe all that careful strategizing she'd done over the years didn't amount to much after all, as she sits alone at the river bank. This is the last place anyone would expect her to be. The river ran through the length of the town, crisscrossing through the backyards of some of Tree Hill's finest, but a generous portion of it ran through the west side, which was far less uppity. Currently, the area where she was dangling her feet over the water, was referred to as the River Court. Quite original, she and her friends had always scoffed. Yet the westsiders maintained a certain curiosity about the court, and the people who seemed to love it so. "River rats", their elders scoffed, but they weren't quite sure.

So here she is, out of the sanctity of her bedroom, the security of her usual hang outs, the company of the only people who love her. And each and every situation causes blame to fall upon her thin shoulders.

It's getting colder, and a thin layer of ice is desperately attempting to form atop the river. However, the tide keeps on, regardless of the weather or what swims beneath. And so, shards of ice and bits of frost float past, and she keeps her feet at a safe distance from where the water reaches the shore. Everything may be up in the air, but that was no reason to trash her new boots, she explained to herself as she tightened her fur-lined coat around her.

She had an avid curiosity about the "river rats", one that couldn't really be quenched when she saw them in school. Haley knew nothing about life on the other side of the tracks, or what drew them to this stretch of the riverbed. She had even heard tales that this was where Lucas Roe held court, and to her delight, there he was.

Tall, blonde and brooding, Haley could easily admit that he'd caught her attention on the first day of freshman year. That was when the local private school and public school merged to form some massive uber-high school. She, Brooke and Peyton had traded in their knee socks and plaid skirts (much to some's chagrin) for mingling with their social inferiors. Overall, it had been a smooth transition. Their little group had remained in tact, finding that all the "populars" from the other schools simply couldn't withstand the competition.

While Lucas Roe was an early contender for the boyfriend of Haley James, her attention was quickly drawn to one Chris Keller. He was so far from her "type" it seemed laughable— the thespian performer and the preppy princess. They were cute together though, and if anyone disagreed with it, they wisely kept their mouths shut.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lucas cut through her internal monologue, his mouth upturned in a smile. But his eyes were still doing that brooding thing.

Color her shocked.

"Nah, I'm just… clearing my head," she smiled disarmingly, and he smiled back, sitting down next to her. Somewhere deep down, she was mildly irritated that he hadn't actually been invited to do so. Overall though, she didn't really care. It was nice to not be alone again.

"So, where's Brooke? And, uh, Peyton?" he forged on, his cheeks pinking slightly at his slip. She smiled knowingly at him.

"Brooke's kind of pissed at me. Peyton's been splitting her time ever since," she said softly, unsure why she was confiding this. Most people, she had either leveled them with her infamous glare or snarled a "fuck off". Most people, including her mother, when she had asked where the two had disappeared to.

"Does she really need to do that? I'm sure Nathan will keep Brooke company," Lucas replied, and with more than a hint of bitterness. Lifting her oversized Chanel sunglasses, she squinted her honey eyes in Luke's direction.

"You sound jealous," she intoned, and he nodded. She reacted with some surprise. Few people she knew were so candid, so open, and the ones who were had been bonded to her for twelve years now.

"I like her," he said simply.

"I thought you and he were friends?" she inquired, more than a little curious. Something about Nathan Scott put all her senses on high alert. She realized, deep down, that this could be a ridiculous fixation on her part. They'd only had a handful of conversations. Hell, he'd probably had more interaction with the mailman, or their science teacher. If looks weren't deceiving, he was getting pretty fucking close with her best friend. So why she still felt this spark, she wasn't sure, but she just couldn't let it go, regardless of how hard she tried.

"We are. But I guess we aren't," he stopped, but continued off the intrigued arching of her eyebrow. "I mean, friends are supposed to be supportive of each other and shit, and I'm too fucking jealous for that."

"Jealous," she said the word aloud, weighing it slowly.

"Yes, it may be a new concept to you, but it's when you want something somebody else has got," he said, but it was more joking than reprimanding, so she let it go. "They're just always together… they sit together in class, they eat together at the café, she waits for him when she's done with cheering… she must really care about him."

Haley could literally _feel_ the anguish radiating off of him, and sincerely wished she could do something about that. It was impossible, as she was about as green as he was, but it was the thought that counted.

"If they're together, they'll fizzle in like, a week. I mean, we all know how Brooke is, and Nathan seems to be cut from the same cloth."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lucas asked, sounding bizarrely defensive. "Don't say that about Brooke. She's… she's beautiful, and incredible, and she's got the most amazing heart. You just don't—"

"Know her like you do?" Haley intoned with a sarcastic laugh. "Buddy, do you forget who you're talking to? _You_ don't know her like _I_ do."

"That's true," he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Haley."

"Whatever," she waved it away, knowing guiltily that if she had been as sensitive to Brooke as Lucas was, she'd be sitting with a brunette instead of a blonde right now. "So, you're into her?"

"I would say that's obvious."

"Well, you're on her list. You'll get her at some point, in some form," her smile was crueler now, because she was just done being polite. As she walked away from him, and the river that longed to freeze over, she hugged her jacket more tightly around her and dropped her glasses to shield her eyes. Every person reached the end of their leash eventually. Haley James had a shorter string than most.

* * *

She was probably hoping for this, deep down. It was the only way to explain why she was sitting on her back patio. It was cold out, to the point where she could literally see her breath forming in front of her, and she'd switched to a heavier jacket. If she were to cry over the current state of affairs, the moisture would probably freeze to her face. As appealing as Bitter Salty Tear Popsicles were, she just wasn't in the mood. And if she were, she could just as easily sit on the balcony off her bedroom. It was a breathtaking view, but not nearly as accessible as the patio. As she heard the shuffling footsteps coming towards her, she knew that this was what she had been waiting for. Without looking up, she could identify the familiar swagger, and that probably should've alarmed her more than it did. She could just _feel_ that he was in the vicinity, and found the knowledge bizarrely comforting.

"Come to yell at me?" she asked, emotionless, finally looking up towards him. He had on that Tree Hill Varsity letterman jacket that all the other jocks in the school wore as if it made them God. He wore it like it was merely a jacket. He didn't really need anything to contribute to his Greek godlike status anyway.

"Have you done something wrong, Hales?" his light blue gaze bored into her, and it made her shiver in a way the weather had yet to. When Nathan sat down beside her, it marked the second time that day that someone had joined her without asking permission. If this was a new trend, she would surely be pissed. Instead of feeling irritated like before, she just felt the warmth radiating off him.

"You know I did, Nathan," she intended her words to be biting, but found them to be only weary. He noticed too, an amused expression flitting across his handsome face, and then disappearing as quickly as it'd come.

"You're really being a bitch to her. You know that she needs you, especially now. Why don't you just go apologize?"

"She told you about Lynne?" Haley gasped, the air freezing in her lungs. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and her mind was reeling, but she still wasn't sure why she was _so_ surprised. She knew that Brooke and Nathan were really close now, but Brooke had never told anyone about _her_.

"Yeah," he'd definitely been spending too much time with a pretty brunette, as he had currently adopted her "Of course, you moron" tone.

"Right. Yeah. Of course," Haley could feel herself on the verge of a notorious babble.

"So, you going to beg forgiveness? I think she's taking over my room as we speak, so no time like the present," he goaded gently, telling her what to do and where to do it. But she couldn't, images of exactly what Brooke is doing in Nathan Scott's bedroom a little too much for her.

"As much fun as it is to walk in on Brooke in various states of undress, I think I'll pass," she snorted.

"What?" he asked, his forehead creasing in the middle. "Oh, you think…" he broke off into laughter, his large hand pressed against the flat hardness of his abdomen. Not that she could see it through the clothing he too was wearing, but she just knew it.

"Yes, _I_ think. And so does everybody else," she spat.

"Well, you guys think really highly of us, now don't you? Isn't it possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends?" he challenged.

"Not when their names are Nathan Scott and Brooke Davis," she smiled sweetly, and he just shook his head at her.

"Whatever Haley. Are you going to apologize to her or what, because it's freezing out here, and while having accusations hurled at me by someone who doesn't know what they're talking about is always a good time, I think I'd rather go inside."

"Jesus! What the hell is with you people? Where's Peyton's great defender, huh? Why is everybody so fucking concerned with Brooke?"

"Who's everybody?" he burst into her rant.

"You… Lucas… that's _twice_ today that randoms have plopped down next to me to talk about Brooke Davis," she blew out an exasperated laugh, but shivered slightly. Begrudgingly, he wrapped an arm around her. She could feel the defined muscles press against her back, even through the millions of layers of cloth she felt were between them.

"How chivalrous of you," she laughed slightly, but he seemed a million miles away, his fingers unconsciously playing through her long blonde curls. This felt bizarrely comfortable to her.

"Lucas is really into her, isn't it?" he asked, and it may have been rhetorical, but she answered her anyway.

"Lucas is _really_ into her. Since like, sophomore year," she laughed a little. "Brooke likes him too, I think."

"I think so too," he answered absently, one of his fingers completely surrounded by her hair. He pulled at it lightly, and the curl sprung back into place. A jealous and insecure Haley, one that she didn't like to let out very much, thought that he might have more fun doing this with Peyton. She was so much more open that Haley, once she let you in. She was fun and witty and blunt, and her curls were much tighter. The thoughts stirred something inside her, causing her to unconsciously shift closer to him. The warmth radiating off his body felt so welcoming, and he smelled as delicious as he had in the janitor's closet. It really was just Nathan's scent, and it was completely intoxicating.

"Doesn't that bother you?" she asked curiously. She had been spitting mad when Chris had looked too long in another girl's direction, and it had happened plenty of times. Yet here he sat, completely nonchalant, agreeing with her that Brooke was probably into Lucas.

"Contrary to popular belief, Brookie and I aren't together," he answered, a little bit irritated now. She believed him this time, maybe, because it felt so natural to be here like this with him. His arm was around her, and he was keeping her warm, and he smelled so good and sounded so sincere, and it's not like there was a real reason to lie. "Does Luke think we are?" he frowned now, and she was surprised beyond reason that he was so concerned. He had shown her before that he was capable of concern for people other than himself, and she still refused to see past the sexy smirk and the arrogant swagger. She'd have to work on that.

"Jealous beyond belief," she nodded in the informative, gossipy way usually reserved for conversations with Brooke and Peyton. "He thinks that you and he can't be friends anymore because he's not supportive of your relationship with Brooke."

"He's kind of a girl sometimes," he said, and she laughed in agreement.

"Are you fucking my best friend?" she asked, flinching a little at the vulgarity of her own words.

"That depends on how many best friends you have," he quipped, but she wasn't amused.

"Is Brooke part of the Nathan Scott harem?" she looked straight into his eyes, and he didn't flinch as he shook his head in the negative.

"Nah, but you can be, if you want," his eyes twinkled in amusement. They really were such pretty eyes, and it was unfair that someone should be so genetically flawless. She was tempted to say "hell yeah," right there and begin stripping, but Haley James was a contained girl who possessed pride and dignity. On the occasions where she wasn't losing her temper, screaming and throwing things. His large hand dropped from her hair, his fingers tracing lightly over her collarbone. The slight roughness of his skin against the softness of hers created a most desirable friction, making her mind a little bit hazy. She found herself wondering how the rest of his skin felt, and knew that she was wandering down a dangerous path.

"No thanks. I'm not really a big fan of sharing," she whispered, her voice sounding huskier than she'd hoped.

"Well then I guess it's a good thing we save the threesomes for a few months in, huh?" he smirked down at her. He wanted her to kiss him. No, she wanted her to want him to kiss her. She wasn't going to do it either way, because Haley James was… Haley James was… contained, or modest, or something. It was hard to remember exactly what Haley James was as his fingers fiddled idly with the straps of her bra, slipping dangerously close to the swell of her breast, as his hand had slipped beneath the layers protecting her from the cold. She was starting to wonder why she'd worn all these clothes anyway, because she was feeling pretty damn hot at the moment.

"You're disgusting," she murmured, searching for a typical, snarky remark.

"You're turned on," he grinned triumphantly, removing his hand as he placed a sloppy kiss on the smooth plane of her cheek, painfully close to the corner of her mouth. He was gone then, swaggering back towards his own house, a little bounce in his step that she knew came from this recent turn of events. She pulled her coat tighter, feeling much colder now, but waiting to regain use of her legs.

Nathan, 1. Haley, 0.

* * *

_Sorry it's so long between updates, guys. I've been getting a little better, but I've still got a few stories on my plate, and my life has been indescribably distracting lately. Thank you all for sticking with me. An extraspecial thanks to those on 911 who put this story on their 'what they're reading' lists. You're all amazing. So please review and let me know what you think_

_x Sam_


	9. Chapter 9

_This story is being revived in honor of Amanda's birthday. She's all old now, but I love her dearly, and this chapter is the only thing I knew she wanted. _

_Happy Birthday Girlie! _

**

* * *

**

**Winds of Change**

_Nine_

Everyone has their fears, even Tree Hill High's Elites.

Brooke's fear was clowns. It was simple enough, almost too cliché for the complex cheerleader. Even so, everything about them gave her the "heebie-jeebies", in her words, right from their brightly painted faces, to their neon wings, to their unnaturally big shoes. At first, it was a secret fear, and Haley had felt honored that she'd been privy to the knowledge. Little girls were all about secrets. Big ones too, come to think of it. But that secret became very public knowledge when the little Davis shouted at the entertainment at the fair they went to for their third grade field trip, "Don't you come any closer, you creepy asshole!" She'd gotten a time out for that, but Haley and Peyton snuck in to play with her anyway.

Peyton's fear was silence. It was peculiar to try and explain, but she needed noise around her at all times. If it wasn't chatter, it was music, or the roar of an engine, the tapping of a heel, the gritting of teeth, or the clicking of nails against a solid surface. She needed anything, any sound, regardless of how annoying, to ensure that she wasn't alone. In the silence, you can hear too much.

Still, regardless of how silly their own fears were, Brooke and Peyton never missed an opportunity to tease their best friend about her own fear—cemeteries. For as long as she could remember, Haley James had been desperately afraid of graveyards. She wasn't sure why, either. Realistically, she knew she was being ridiculous; it wasn't like the bodies were going to jump up at her. Even if they did, they were only bones, it's not like they could do anything to her. Haley still couldn't shake her fear though, and got chills each time she passed one.

On this particular morning, Haley had been going about her usual routine. Each morning, on weekends, she would sleep in. Then she'd take her typical half-hour showers, emerging in a cloud of sweet-smelling mist after she'd been shampooed, conditioned, shaved and moisturized to her satisfaction. Haley would then sip her tea as she read the newspaper, and get ready to go out whenever the urge struck her. She was three-fourths through when a headline caught her eye, and in her shock, spat her warm drink all over the table. That part didn't really matter, because the James family had a live-in staff that made their livelihood off cleaning up things like that. The newspaper was far more important.

**DEADLY ANNIVERSARY LOOMS FOR A PRESTIGIOUS FAMILY**

_Tree Hill, North Carolina- In a few days, it will be two years to the day that a local family suffered an immense loss. However, this was not just any ordinary family. The Davis clan is known worldwide for the fortune they've amassed in the hotel business. Roscoe Davis upped the family's celebrity factor with his marriage to Lydia DeWitt, the international supermodel. The couple's marriage is still going strong as they approach their twentieth anniversary. However, the happy occasion will be darkened by the memory of their great loss. _

_On December 26th, a day held notorious in the fashion world, fourteen year old Lynne Davis was found dead on the floor of her hotel suite. The teen had followed her mother's footsteps into the modeling business, and it was clear early on that she was poised for superstardom. The skinny blonde had inked a contract with French fashion house Bleu, and had recently been considering acting. While an autopsy was performed, the family has kept mum on the cause of the starlet's untimely demise. _

_Since then, life has gone on for the Davis family. Brooke, the elder daughter of Roscoe and Lydia, has recently turned seventeen, and is currently attending Tree Hill High School. While the brunette has matured into quite the beauty, she has expressed no interest in the entertainment industry. When approached for comment, she neglected to say anything about her deceased younger sister. Brooke is reportedly a close friend of Peyton Sawyer, the daughter of music mogul Larry Sawyer, and Haley James, heir to the oil fortune. _

At that point, Haley threw down the paper. That was enough of that. She knew it was hypocritical to love reading celebrity gossip, but hate stories about her loved ones, but she really didn't care. As she whirled around her bedroom, getting dressed as fast as possible, all she could think of was how deeply Brooke would be hurt if (more like when…) she saw that article. Who she'd hooked up with the weekend before, what she'd worn to the latest premiere… all that was okay to write about. But her family was her private pain.

That's how Haley found herself facing her worst fear. She shivered, not just from the cold of December, but from fear as well. The petite blonde snuggled deeper inside her warm coat, but it still couldn't seem to remove the chill from her bones. Still, she moved forward, the heels of her new boots sinking softly into the semi-frozen ground as she swept past the gleaming tombstones. The cold seeped away from her as tears filled her wide honey eyes, and she took in the image before her. There was a thin brunette without a coat, just jeans and a sweater, kneeling on the ground before her. Her dark hair whipped around her face, but she didn't care. Haley's heart broke just a little bit more for her best friend, before she got down on the ground next to her, designer clothes be damned.

"I had a feeling I'd find you here," Haley tried softly, tentatively bridging the gap.

"You always did know," Brooke responded with a watery smile, her eyes barely leaving the grave before them.

"Where's your coat, Brookie Cookie?" she nudged her softly, relying on old childhood nicknames.

"I forgot it. My parents were home, and I sort of wigged out, and I just ran," the brunette shrugged helplessly, and Haley nodded in understanding. "I'm not cold though."

"No?"

"Not yet, no. I'm sure it's coming though," she attempted the wide smile she was so famous for, but only its shadow swept across her face.

"Not exactly the most wonderful time of the year, I know," Haley whispered, her voice soothing, as she scooted in closer to her friend. Brooke dropped her head heavily onto Haley's shoulder.

"Never really has been for girls like us. I mean, when are our parents actually home? We don't get Christmas, we get "Here, buy yourself something nice, and get ready for Mr. and Mrs. Money Bag's party." I think next year, me, you and Peyt should just run away for December. See what our parents would do without their prettiest trophies."

"Sounds like a plan. Where do you want to go?" the blonde asked, stroking Brooke's chocolate locks softly. She knew that it comforted her, just as it did for all the girls. In the absence of real family, they had to become both sister and mother for each other.

"Somewhere warm. Its way too fucking cold here," her teeth chattered lightly.

"This is our official peace treaty, by the way," Haley laughed slightly, but she was anxious for Brooke's response.

"Definitely olive branched," Brooke nodded decisively. Brooke Davis had a very well defined chin, an almost exact replica of her mothers. It helped make whatever expression she was trying to convey seem that much stronger. Occasionally it reminded Haley of someone else though, someone Brooke had loved dearly. Someone whose memorial they were perched in front of.

"I know you miss her, Brookie. But you don't have to go through it alone," Haley said over the lump in her throat.

"I know that. I've never been alone," Brooke shook her head, tears seeping out of the corners of her bright green eyes. "Remember how L used to follow us around all the time? She would beg to come along wherever we were going, and sometimes we'd let her, and we'd all have fun. But sometimes I would tell her no, just because you guys were my friends, and I didn't see why I had to share you with my little sister."

"Oh Brookie, you know she got over that. Nobody ever wants to hang out with their siblings."

"I just, I don't get it, I _still_ don't get it. She did too much one time, and it was all over for her, and I do it all the time and nothing ever happens to me, besides a hangover and some loser in my bed."

Haley frowned, thought lines marring her forehead, trying to determine what her best friend was talking about. Brooke had a tendency to babble, and sometimes it seemed like she was just speaking in code, but Haley could usually decode it fairly easily. That's what best friends did. It came to her suddenly, with a sickening drop of her stomach.

"Brookie… at that party… nobody slipped you anything, did they?" Haley tried to catch Brooke's eye, but the brunette kept her gaze firmly trained on the headstone before them. That gave her all the answer she needed, and she clutched her tighter to her, the tears starting to pour from her own eyes. "Why, Brooke?"

"I took the pills, and I laid on the bathroom floor for half an hour, just to see what she felt like. I want to understand her, and I know I never will, and I'll never have the chance to."

"Why did you get up?"

"Because Tim started banging on the door. He had to piss, in his oh-so-eloquent terms," Brooke snorted out a laugh. Haley could feel a little laugh inside her at the image she'd provided, but it just couldn't make its way to the surface.

"So, what? You were planning on just dying in the bathroom at some beach house?" Haley could feel herself getting a little bit angry now, and willed herself not to lash out.

"No! I mean, I guess. I don't know, Hales, I don't know what I was doing. I just miss her! She was _fourteen_! I don't know anything about my sister except that she was anorexic and overdosed at _fourteen_! People who write her biographies know more about her than I do. She's some little legend in everybody's mind, and all I can see is that tiny blonde girl who used to climb into my bed when it was raining."

"I know you miss her sweetie, and I'm so sorry," Haley said in response, knowing that nothing she said would ever be enough.

"I do miss her. I miss our little L, not Lynne Davis, supermodel. I hate that she never got to be her own person, because she was always my mother's Frankenstein. I wish she could've found that boy that would change everything for her, or that I got to drive her to school, or that we would've skipped and gotten donuts and just watched chick flicks all day. I wish that my mom wasn't so hard on her, and that my dad cared. I wish that we all remembered her, but there's just nothing there."

"Brooke, I know that you two drifted apart, but she still loved you more than anything. She always wanted to be just like you? Remember how she used to take your clothes for dress up, and she always tagged along, just to hang out with her big sister for a little while longer. She loved you, Brooke, and you loved her, and that's what counts. It doesn't matter if you knew what her favorite color was, all that matters is love."

"You know, she was spoiled, and she was whiny, and she was such a brat sometimes. But she needed help, why did they leave her alone? She had all these so-called friends. Why did she have to die alone?" Brooke sobbed into Haley's shoulder, drenching her coat, but she didn't notice, and Haley didn't care.

They sat their, huddled together, for an hour or more. They both lost track of the time as the sun slowly set on them. Light was always harsher in the winter for some reason. It seemed like the world was so much less eager to protect you. Summer sun rose lazily, warming you inside and out. Winter light just blinded your eyes.

"Hey Hales, why do you think we fight so much?" Brooke wiped at the mascara smudges below her eyes as she looked up at her best friend.

"It's easier to lash out at people who you know will always be there for you. And since we're bonded together for all of eternity, I think we're a damn safe bet," Haley quipped, but she was telling the truth. They bickered a lot, but it never really made a difference, because at the end of the day, they were like sisters should be.

"I love you, Hales."

"Love you too, Brookie. But no more pills, okay? We don't know how many more tricks Super Nathan's got up his sleeve, and I sure as hell can't carry anyone," Haley made a face at the thought. "Plus, Peyt and I kind of need you."

"Yeah, I kind of need y'all too. Speaking of, let's go see what P. Sawyer's skinny ass is up to anyway. Maybe we'll even catch Ellie with the pool boy." They exchanged grins at the thought. Slowly, they picked themselves up off the cold ground, dusting themselves off, and re-linking their arms as they walked away, only looking back once.

"Bye, baby sis."


End file.
